


Providence

by IntrospectiveInquisitor



Series: The Eyes Have It [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Body Horror, Consensual Mutilation, Consensual Sex, Depression, Desperation, Deterioration, Developing Relationship, Drug Abuse, Eldritch Bill Cipher, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Human Bill Cipher, Introspection, Isolation, Mental Instability, Organ Play, Other, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 69
Words: 155,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrospectiveInquisitor/pseuds/IntrospectiveInquisitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A demon spurned is retribution earned. </p><p>Dipper's refusal of Bill's proposal and lack of reciprocation for an earlier deal has lead to gruesome consequences. Trapped inside a waking nightmare with a demon made flesh, Dipper struggles to remember why anything ever mattered in the first place. </p><p> Bill Cipher, Master of the Mind and All Seeing Eye has his favorite human right where he wants him. With a vessel to inhabit and a crumbling mind to twist as he pleases, Bill decides that botching the apocalypse wasn't such a bad thing after all. Only.. he finds that inflicting pain and grief isn't the only thing that brings him satisfaction. </p><p>Strongly recommended that you read the previous story in the series, Bright Eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Creeping

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to contact me at http://introspectiveinquisitor.tumblr.com/ if you have any questions about the story.

The phone never stopped ringing. Dipper eyed his buzzing cell with trepidation sludging through his veins. He knew what it would be. What they all were. He couldn't sleep anymore. Couldn't call anyone. Couldn't make the calls stop. Dipper Pines was slowly wearing down. 

Months had passed since he had defied the 'almighty' dream demon known as Bill Cipher and killed the... entity that he only knew as Bright Eyes. The nightmarish blur of twisted time and muddled dreams had begun to scab over, but still the infection lingered. Every shadow was a twisted aberration, every light was his inevitable demise. Dipper didn't own clocks anymore. He could barely muster the will to go downstairs, or look out his window. The surge of confidence that came with regaining his most precious memories had faded into obscurity, and left him a shivering, self loathing wreck. To think that he was braver as a child than as a grown man, he mused bitterly. 

As a result he'd poured himself into his work, words spilling onto paper and word documents, chapters materializing as if from thin air. But as time went on, everything grew bleak. His beloved characters met with terrible fates, heroic ventures ended in tragedy, happy endings were torn asunder. The tonal shift was drastic and abrupt, giving his stories a disjointed, juxtaposed flavor. He considered scrapping everything, but the thought of it was a new kind of terror. One that meant he wasn't capable of pursuing his one remaining purpose in life. That he was a failure before he could even try. So he began drawing away from his work as quickly as he had thrown himself at it. 

Dipper enshrouded himself in solitude. His sister was the only one close enough to worry, and he managed to appease her with occasional ventures into the world beyond his four walls. His jokes fell flat and his laughter rang hollow, but he'd never been very funny in the first place. He sat in the dark, eyes red and twitching as he attempted to focus on something, anything other than his growing paranoia. He could still feel the presence of something locked in with him, and he could barely even convince himself that Bright Eyes was dead. The body had disappeared, left without a trace. But Dipper had kept the eyes. Preserved them in a jar and kept them on his desk, so he would always know. Even nightmares can bleed.

His isolation was both a blessing and a curse. He only truly felt safe when he was alone, unseen and ignored. But he felt painfully vulnerable as well, trapped in the house he'd been hunted in. He'd considered moving, but that was an expense he couldn't afford. There was only so much gold they could dig up in Gravity Falls, and his tentative steps back into employment had ceased altogether. He could barely look at his own reflection anymore, let alone hold a steady job. His severe lack of marketable skills and growing insomnia weren't helping either. So he sat, and he waited for... something. 

And then the phone calls came. He'd only answered a few times, the first from ignorance and the rest from morbid curiosity. They changed every time. Threats of mutilation from monotone voices, endless laughter that blared in his ear, cosmic sounds that were beyond the comprehension of human beings; they all tormented him. 

Dipper didn't dream anymore. On the rare few occasions he managed sleep, it was quick and light. Blissful nothing embraced him for all of a moment before he was blinking himself awake, eyes burning and head pounding. Even if he could, he didn't want to dream ever again, for he knew what awaited him in the prison of his own unconsciousness. Bill Cipher. 

Dipper knew that everything was that triangle's fault. Every otherworldly phone call, every sleepless night, every dark thought that bled through his fingertips was due to the Eye of Providence. But he knew this was hardly the extent of Bill's ire. The lack of visitors to his fractured mindscape was a sign that the demon was busy with something else, something that would surely prove to be... unfavorable. But there was nothing he could do. Within the limited scope of Gravity Falls, he'd at least had familiarity on his side. But out here, in the vast nothing of the outside world, Dipper was lost. Tossed aside once his usefulness had dried up, left adrift upon an inky sea like the flotsam he was. 

And so Dipper sat, and waited for his end to come.


	2. Knock

Dipper stalked his own home like a wandering specter. He moved, pale and listless, from room to room with no real destination. He'd been pacing for the better part of an hour, trying to ignore the multiple ringing phones that surrounded him. He'd unplugged the phone chargers weeks ago. His cell phone was on vibrate, and had been operating on one percent battery for twenty six days. Thankfully, he somehow managed to work out a lull in the endless calls where he could read any messages from his sister. He'd already made it abundantly clear that he didn't want her to call. He'd made up some excuse about it disrupting the creative writing process. He didn't know when he'd last touched a writing utensil, or used his laptop for anything other than mindlessly scrolling through web pages.

But that wasn't important. What _was_  important was the aching dread in his gut that had solidified into the absolute and unquestionable certainty of his coming death. Or mutilation. Or- whatever other horrible thing that Bill was planning for him. All he knew was that the triangle was coming. He didn't know where, or when, or how, or even in what form, but he could feel it scraping the inside of his head and in the deepest pits of his stomach. He couldn't afford to sit and stew in his silent paranoia anymore. He had to tell Mabel.

Dipper didn't trust himself to drive, anymore. His fine motor control was shot with nerves, and he couldn't stop himself from jumping at the slightest sound or even the suggestion of something moving. So Dipper had invited his sister into his house, which he'd come to both hate with every fiber of his being and depend upon wholly and utterly to keep whatever was left of his psyche from shattering into dust.

The doorbell rang, and for a moment he dismissed it as just another phone. Only... they had all stopped. Dead silence followed the echo of the bell, and he felt something cold well up inside him. He slowly approached his front door, trying to remember the last time he'd opened it himself. Normally Mabel was perfectly happy to use her copy of the house key to barge in and drag him out of bed for sibling bonding time. He vaguely wondered why she wasn't doing so now. Maybe she'd picked up on the somber tone of voice he'd used, and had registered how serious the situation was? She was always intuitive about those sorts of things. She seemed to perfectly understand when it was acceptable to wheedle information out of him, and when he needed time to himself before he spoke. Maybe that's why she hadn't really confronted him, these last few months. He'd have to make it known how much he appreciated that.

Dipper peered through the peephole in his door, heart pounding- until he saw his sister's face, slightly warped by the curved glass. He sighed a breath of relief, unlocking the door and pulling it open. He put on a tentative smile, and it turned to dust the moment he saw her.

Mabel's distorted face grinned back at him, eyes wide and unseeing. Her mouth remained unmoving, but a voice emanated from within regardless. "Hello, Pine Tree. Long time no see." Bill lurched in through the door, steps plodding and powerful. He used two cold, clammy hands to grasp at Dipper's cheeks, leering with his stolen face. "Did you miss me?"

Dipper felt as though his blood had been replaced with needles. Everything inside him sang with agony, his heart thudding frantically and his lungs expanding shallowly and his stomach convulsing violently- but beyond it all was something else, unlike anything Dipper had felt before. Absolute, heart wrenching loss, spreading a spider web through his chest cavity and clogging up his throat. He'd liken the sensation to his organs twisting and constricting themselves, squeezing and squeezing until they withered away into nothing. "M-Mabel," he managed to wheeze.

"Sorry Pine Tree, Shooting Star couldn't make it to this little get-together. Lucky for you, your ol' pal Bill decided to pick up the slack!" Bill walked his vessel further into the house, pushing Dipper backwards with each step. "But boy, have I got some good news to share with you! I've got my own body now! I forgot how neat it was, having a physical form."

Dipper's hands clenched and unclenched, a spark of anger managing to ignite amongst a sea of despair. "Y-you... give Mabel her body back! S-she has nothing to do with this!"

Bill laughed, his high pitched cackle lacking its supernatural echo, but still managing to make Dipper's hair stand on end. "You don't seem to get it, Pine Tree. Even if I did give Shooting Star's body back, she couldn't exactly use it again!"

The meaning behind Bill's words brought tears of horror to Dipper's eyes. "Y-you... no, Bill please, no, you didn't-" He froze as he felt his sister's icy hands fall away. It was as if he'd been cast in cement from the neck down, given no choice but to stand and watch as something emerged from within her mouth.

Fingers. Long, sickly things that hooked around her teeth and pushed away her lips, grasping and pulling and _coming out of her throat_ \- Dipper regained some semblance of control, one leg trying to pull him backwards, away, get _away_ , but all he accomplished was sending himself crashing to the ground. He scrabbled backwards, back slamming against the couch and he couldn't stop looking-

Mabel's mouth peeled away and folded back on itself as cufflinked wrists erupted from her throat, fingers pulling and straining and there were so many, at least eight on each hand and four knuckles for every one. They looked malformed, some of them crooked or stunted in size. Dipper could barely breathe, eyes blown wide as the process continued. Mabel's arms flopped like ragdoll limbs, swaying back and forth as longer, slimmer limbs climbed out of her. Her throat was stretched like rubber, thin and taut and tearing in some places. There was no blood. Narrow, pointed shoulders marked the end of the inhumanly long arms, and what came next would be burned into Dipper's mind for the rest of his sure to be swiftly ended life.

Bill was grinning at him. Needle thin teeth filled his unnaturally wide mouth to the brim, lips pale and colorless. His features were uncanny valley incarnate; flawlessly sculpted cheeks and a smooth jawline clashed with a mouth like a bear trap, and a strong, straight nose was undermined by a pair of wide, bulging eyes. One of them burned a fiery gold, and the other was completely filmed over with white. Hair flowed from his scalp in a neat coif, shining like liquid gold from one angle and gleaming like oil on asphalt from another.

Bill emerged seamlessly, like a reptile shedding its skin. Everything that remained of Mabel Pines lay pooled around his oxfords like a discarded coat. "Boy, it sure was stuffy in there. But I think it really SUITed me. Hahahaha!" Numerous spindly fingers reached up to adjust a black bowtie and straigten the hideous yellow waistcoat that was cinched around a lean torso. He hunched over, enlongated spine curving as he leaned down to Dipper's level. The demon frowned when he saw closed eyes, and roughly wrenched Dipper's head around to face him. Bleary eyes cracked open to meet his gaze, wet with tears. "You look so disappointed, Pine Tree! Trust me, I'm disappointed too. Shooting Star was great! You should have heard the way she promised she'd stop me from hurting you. A little trooper, that one! Shame she had to die because of you." Bill waited for something. A yell, a punch, a sob, any sort of reaction. Pine Tree just stared, tears trickling down his face and chest shuddering with each breath. "Nothing to say? That's fine, I can wait."

"Not like I'm going anywhere, right?"


	3. Clay

Dipper opened his eyes, and was met with familiar darkness. The welcoming unseen was like a treasured embrace, swallowing him wholly and utterly in security. He was in his bed. He was in the dark. He was safe.

And the phones were silent. Dipper blindly fumbled for his cell, rustling through the piles of blankets and sheets he enshrouded himself with. It was a childish sort of comfort, but it was comfort nonetheless. Dipper's fingers dragged across cool glass, and he snatched up the phone to check the time. 11:03 PM. Dipper was used to keeping odd hours at this point, and thus thought nothing of the late hour.

Only... wasn't he supposed to meet with Mabel, today? He frowned in consternation. Something wasn't right. He didn't remember falling asleep, and even if he had there was no way he'd slept through the entire day. And even if he, for whatever reason, managed to sleep deeply and peacefully for the first time in months, Mabel would still have barged in and woken him up when he didn't answer the door. He pressed a hand against his forehead, dread frothing in his gut. He glanced down at his phone again, and saw a text from Mabel.

'hey bro ill be there soon so dont worry, ill punch those bad feels all the way to jupiter >:333' Message sent 10:13 AM. Yesterday.

"Pretty convincing, right? Not that it was hard, or anything; your sister is predictably unpredictable in the best sort of way. Or was, I guess. Can't forget that past tense!" Bill Cipher was perched at the end of his bed, limbs twisted and contorted to keep him balanced. A million teeth flashed in the dark, just barely illuminated by the light of Dipper's phone. "But that's not what I'm interested in talking about. Let's switch gears to you, Pine Tree. And about how you've kept me waiting." Bill's limbs unwound, inching him forward like the legs of a spider. His advance was met with Dipper's retreat, the failure kicking against the mattress to push himself against the headboard. The demon laughed, pushing Dipper's legs apart and snaking between them to close the distance entirely, all sixteen fingers grasping a face wet with tears. "I really don't enjoy waiting, Pine Tree."

Dipper didn't answer. The calamitous cacophony of buzzing, flitting thoughts consumed him. Snatches of panic and rage and sorrow flickered like fire flies, but they were shadowed by the rotten core of loss that poisoned his insides. Mabel was gone. Dead. The creature that killed her had worn her skin, entered his home, was sat on his bed- His chest heaved and his breaths turned to shuddering gasps as a nightmare beyond the blind fear of Bright Eyes and the raw, visceral horror of Bill Cipher blossomed inside him. Mabel was _dead_.

Bill tilted his head a few increments farther than his spine should have allowed, his one functioning eye burning into his quarry. He squeezed his victim's face until he felt the sharp cut of cheekbones and the rounded press of teeth under his appendages. "Still not ready to talk? That's okay; I've got conversation enough for the two of us. Let's talk about this body, huh? Pretty snazzy, in my opinion, which is vastly superior to all others. It's not exactly how I envisioned it, but outsourcing your work to human slugs is never the best idea. Putrid idiot couldn't even get the hands right." Bill drummed his fingertips on Dipper's pliant face, humming to himself. "Let's see... what else. Oh, the summoner! Thanks for reminding me, Pine Tree. Some greed soaked swine that I promised riches to in exchange for a teeny bit of human transmutation. With my own personal spice, of course." Bill winked his blanked out eye. "See? I can even wink properly now! It's like my entire trillion years of existence have led up to this exact moment. Anyway, off topic. The summoner got his riches, alright. I filled him with liquid gold until it wouldn't stop leaking out. And boy, let me tell you; charred human and gold should be some kind of delicacy. I wish I could have experienced it with something other than these primitive taste sensors, but it was still pretty great."

"W...what were you waiting for?" A pathetic croak, choked and crackly. Dipper's eyes were still shut; or they were, until Bill prised his eyelids open. "D-don't-" he protested weakly, yanking his head away and blinking rapidly.

"What do you mean, what was I waiting for? I was waiting for you, Pine Tree! I'm certainly not sticking around for my health." Bill's multitude of appendages slid down Dipper's face, catching and dragging on the skin before they started tracing his jaw and throat.

Dipper swallowed reflexively when he felt the gloved fingers at his throat, resisting the urges to both put up a fight and to close his eyes and pretend nothing was happening. "Y-you.. why haven't you killed me? Isn't that why you're here?"

Bill blinked, before cackling uproariously. Something sweet and rotten lingered on his breath. "What a kidder! You've got the heart of a true comic, Pine Tree! What's the fun in killing you? It's a lot funnier to watch you fall apart." Bill rubbed something vaguely thumb-like against Dipper's protruding adam's apple, feeling it convulse. "You're like clay. So easy for me to twist and shape and mold to my desires. And even when you harden..." Bill pressed his mouth against the closest ear, voice emerging in a breathy whisper. "I can shatter you into pieces."

Dipper wished he could see red, to feel an inferno of fury that would consume him and take away the ache that bloomed in every inch of him. He wanted to wrap his hands around Bill's skinny little neck and press down until that grinning face turned blue and lifeless. But he didn't. He couldn't. Bright Eyes had been slow and physically weak. Whatever Bill was now certainly wasn't human, and it was likely able to rip him apart with ease. Maybe he should try after all. The thought echoed inside the occupied cavity of his skull. His hands twitched, fingers half clenched. He could.. Dipper would...

Do nothing. He would sit here and do nothing, because he wasn't worth any more than that. Dipper felt something numb spreading through his chest, permeating his organs and rendering everything null. "What do you want from me?" His tongue felt heavy and useless, his words half mumbled.

"What do I want? I feel like we've been over this before. But I have a real answer for you this time! What I want is you, Pine Tree; broken, useless, mine to do with as I please. We're already making wonderful progress," Bill chirped cheerfully. "Considering I missed my last chance at enacting the armageddon, I've got a few millenia to kill. So for now, you'll be my little pet project! A long term study on emotional and mental trauma. Think of it as a... learning experience." Bill grinned, lips stretching around the corners of his face. "You like learning, right?"

Dipper almost closed his eyes again. He barely dared to blink, to move, to breathe. "...You did all this just because I wouldn't accept your deal?" The echo of anger rang through him, but it lasted only for a few precious moments.

"Welllll..." Bill stretched the word like taffy, "I'll admit that that's part of it. You owed me for the help, and you weren't willing to pay up. Gotta say, that really grinds my gears. But really? I'm fascinated by you, Pine Tree. You're unique and interesting, and watching you deteriorate into a pathetic little hermit is amusing. I'm sure you would have broken somewhere down the line even without my interference, once you realized how utterly meaningless everything you've ever done and will ever do is. I'm just... nudging things along. Getting a front row seat to the descent of Dipper Pines." His name sounded almost uncomfortable on the demon's tongue. Neither of them was used to it coming from that voice.

Dipper felt something like indignation try to rise up in his chest. "You.. I-I'm not a toy to play with! You... I'll-"

"You'll WHAT, Pine Tree? Defeat me? Find a way to bring back your useless corpse of a sister and live happily after? You'll do NOTHING. You'll sit in this room and turn to dust because you're too pathetic to do anything else. Luckily, I'm here to spice things up." The vicious bite in Bill's voice was immediately replaced by his normal, cheerful screeching. He leaned up and away, towering over Dipper even on his knees. "Anyway, I'll leave you to wallow for a while. I'm sure you've got a lot to mull over. Try and get some sleep, too." Bill tapped the lock button on Dipper's phone, plunging them into darkness.

"After all, sleep is important for a dying man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderful piece of fanart that I received for this chapter http://sta.sh/01pviby8eyx6
> 
> Be sure to check out the artist at http://soaringgravity.deviantart.com/


	4. Don't Think

Dipper was alone. He could see the barest hint of light struggling to pierce the thick sheets he'd covered his window with, and it only served to enhance the darkness that hung in the air around him. He hadn't slept, despite having peaceful silence for the first time in months. How could he sleep, safe in his bed, when his sister was gone? How could he even pretend that it wasn't because of him, because he was too busy hiding away to talk to her and find a way to prevent her death? There were so many things he should have done.

Dipper eventually tired of sitting numbly in bed, stewing in the boiling sludge of self loathing he had mired himself in. He crawled out of bed, bare feet shuffling across the floor. He picked at a loose thread on his shirt, and wondered when he'd last bothered to change clothes. The passing of time had been an afterthought recently. There was only before, during, and the vast unknown of after. He wasn't sure of his chances of making it to the after.

There was a clang and a clatter from downstairs, and for once he knew the culprit. He reflexively reached for the hallway light before realizing that it was already on. Was Bill unable to see in the dark? Whatever he was, his body certainly wasn't completely human. There were a lot of variables that Dipper had to take into account. He descended the staircase, eyes gravitating towards the living room. Ma- his si... Bill's disguise was missing. Presumably the demon had done something with it. Dipper tried not to think about it.

Bill was hunched over the kitchen counter, hands fumbling with something in front of him. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, and flashed his teeth in a repugnant grin. "Pine Tree, how nice of you to join me. Your sustenance preparation devices are ridiculously archaic and stupidly designed."

Dipper blinked, and focused on the numb pit in his chest. "Thank you for insulting my kitchen appliances," he managed to murmur, voice rough with exhaustion and hoarse from crying. "What are you doing?"

"Unfortunately, one of the downsides of this meat body is that I require sustenance. I was going to eat animal flesh and processed dairy between slices of baked wheat and yeast, but your cooling rectangle is empty. Also this stuff," Bill waved a half a loaf of bread through the air, "is kinda green, so I was going to put it in the four slot heating coil box to make it all brown and crispy." Bill's painfully stretched grin fell into a grimace of annoyance, which was a completely different flavor of horrifying. "I've been attempting to make it work, but clearly it's too primitive to properly function."

Where Dipper might once have felt irritation and exasperation, perhaps even amusement, there was only a dull ache. "The bread is rotten, Bill. You can't eat it." Dipper wasn't sure why he was informing the demon of this. Probably to keep vomit off his furniture, he rationalized. "I'll... order something. I guess. Don't eat the delivery person." Dipper trudged over to the nearest phone dock, feet dragging across the floor. He began dialling a number for some cheap, greasy pizza parlor (Chunky's Pizza Emporium, or something along those lines), only to stare blankly when the phone didn't light up. Right. He'd unplugged them. "Or not. Just eat some ice, or something. I don't care."

"Ice isn't food, Pine Tree," Bill scoffed. "I know that much. But fine. If you won't feed me, I'll get my own food. Your neighbors won't miss a kid or two, right?" Bill exposed needles of enamel, and Dipper could vividly picture the scraps of skin and muscle fiber that would be caught between them. He watched with a vague sort of panic as the demon loped towards the front door, moving in a manner that was oddly reminiscent of some of the more disgusting insects that Dipper was familiar with.

"Fine, fine! I'll... I can just get my laptop, and we can order food. No eating people." Dipper felt bizarrely like he was chastising a dog. Only, it was one that would certainly bite the hand that fed it, and eat that too.

"I knew you'd see things my way." Bill scuttled up onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, his suit jacket (Dipper had no idea where he'd gotten something so ugly and oddly proportioned) bunching awkwardly as the (six and a half, seven foot tall?) demon contorted his limbs into a position that Dipper was sure couldn't be comfortable in the least.

"Y...yeah. I'll just.. go and order the food. Please don't eat anyone." Dipper made it half a step towards the stairs before Bill's eye locked on him, pinning him like a butterfly to a display board.

"Bring it down here, Pine Tree. I wanna pick my own food." Bill smiled in a decidedly unpleasant manner, but it wasn't brimming with dark mischief or utter malice, so Dipper took it as something positive.

"Okay." Just don't do anything to make him angry. Don't drive him to hurt someone else. Don't... Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, turning on a heel to stumble up the stairs. He sucked in a shuddering breath on the first step, and released it in a controlled exhale. He could feel Bill's gaze searing through him, and hurried upstairs to find a brief respite.

His bedroom provided no such respite. The veil of safety had been lifted, and the darkness held nothing for him. He stared into the shadowed depths, and turned on the light for the first time in... he wasn't sure how long. It was vast and empty in the light, decidedly more yet so much less than the cloying, comforting dark. Dipper tried not to think about it. He retrieved his laptop from his desk, tucking it under an arm and trying to distract himself with thoughts of food. He barely managed to eat as it was. He'd grown pale and sickly, able to count his ribs in the mirror through sunken, bloodshot eyes. He looked like little more than a corpse.

Fitting, considering that he felt dead inside. No, don't think about it. Food. Get food, eat food, don't think. He'd just order pizza, mushroom and black olives, and pineapple with four cheese for-

Dipper's laptop hit the floor with a clatter. His breath caught on hooks in his throat, and his chest ached like nothing he'd ever felt. He slid back against the wall, knees drawing against his chest and hands sinking into his hair. He pulled the strands until his scalp burned, but it only served to draw tears to his eyes even quicker. He shuddered and gasped, lungs heaving and choked little noises slipping past his lips.

He could imagine it so vividly. He and Mabel would order their favorite pizza, and sit around in the living room. They'd laugh, make jokes, and Mabel would gently remind him of why she was there. He'd spill about everything, all his fears and paranoia and self loathing, and she'd smile at him with tender understanding and promise that she'd do whatever she could to help. That they'd work through it together. That everything would be okay.

He could hear the muffled clap of hand and foot against carpeted stairs. He didn't bother to lift his head, lost in the release of saline and shaking breaths. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, trying to pull together the splintered pieces of himself and put them back together into something that pretended to be whole. All he knew was that when he could finally open his eyes without being blinded by tears, he saw the face of Bill Cipher staring back at him.

"Jeez, I thought you'd never stop crying! Not to say that I didn't enjoy every moment of your misery. You really took that acting compliment to heart, huh?" Bill laughed that sinister cackle, his eyes crinkling with mirth but his burning pupil never leaving Dipper's face. "Anyway, as much as I love to watch you fall apart like the fragile little flesh doll you are, I'm ravenous, and those children are sounding more and more delicious with each passing moment."

Dipper nodded without really hearing anything, trying to quash the few hiccups that slipped through his false composure. Don't think. Order food. Eat food. Appease Bill. _Don't. Think._  "Sorry. I, uhm. I'll do that. Now." He inched his way around the demon, trying to distract himself from the way Bill's legs bent underneath him. That was more joints than Dipper was comfortable with. He fumbled to grasp his laptop, lifting it off the floor and checking for damage. The casing was a bit loose, but he managed to snap it back together with a bit of force. There was a new dent in his floor, but that wasn't very important. He flipped open his laptop, navigating to his browser and trying to ignore the hot, moist breath washing over the side of his face.

"Ohhh, this is one of those computation devices, right? Much more sleek and compact than I remember. Portable, too. You worms have come a long way." Bill sniffed with mock-pride, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

"We're getting pizza," Dipper spoke around Bill's babbling. "What do you want on it?" He turned the screen enough to give Bill a better view of the options, shuddering when he felt something warm and firm press along the length of his spine.

"Hmm... they don't have monkey paws on this. Or beaver eyeballs. Not even crocodile liver- this is an outrage. Pine Tree, I demand a more diverse menu." Bill's voice was so loud in his ear. It oozed into his brain like burning slime, filling every inch of him with revulsion.

"You're getting what they have on the menu. You can pick anything they have." Make him feel in control. Not that it wasn't true, Dipper reflected bleakly.

The demon hummed in contemplation, leaning in until the side of his face was pressed against Dipper's. One eye scanned the screen, before he jabbed a gnarled finger at it. "That one! I want that. Aaaand... this one." He tapped the screen insistently, until Dipper checked the little boxes. He put the order through, and completed his transaction. "When do we get it? Now?"

"It'll take about thirty minutes," Dipper replied as smoothly as he was able, trying and failing to keep a light tremor from his voice. "Drink some water from the fridge, while you wait. You're probably dehydrated."

Bill snapped several fingers on one hand, looking annoyed. "I KNEW I'd forgotten something. You carbon based lifeforms are so funny, with your ridiculously inefficient bodily processes." Seemingly having said his piece, Bill scuttled away, and Dipper heard the sound of glass clattering against granite moments later. At least he knew what cups were.

Dipper eventually made his way downstairs, leaving his laptop on the floor. It wasn't important. He very pointedly did not glance towards the kitchen as he settled stiffly on the couch, but relaxed marginally when he heard the sound of pouring water. He sat, unmoving, for the next thirty eight minutes. He signed his name on a receipt when their pizza arrived, and settled it down on the coffee table. He sat in his living room with a demon, and ate pizza. He tried to pretend like the most important person in his life hadn't been taken from him by that same demon. Tried to pretend like it wasn't entirely his fault. Tried to pretend everything was okay.

It didn't work. 


	5. Soak

Dipper wasn't sure how long he'd been sat on the couch. He'd managed to stomach one slice of pizza before his insides started protesting, and was currently watching Bill tear apart his own food. The demon had taken one bite and declared the grease soaked slice 'Absolutely the most disgusting food substance ever devised by puny human minds', and then he ate another two slices in the span of thirty seconds. Dipper felt nauseous just watching him.

He wasn't sure what time it was. Sunlight still spilled through the blinds lining the far wall, so he imagined it somewhere around midday. When was the last time he'd actually been awake during the day? Dipper clenched his fists until oft bitten fingernails sank into his palm, forcing the thought away. Don't think. He ignored the demon's unabashed staring in favor of curling up on his side and staring at his blank television screen. His own blurred reflection was nothing but a smudge of colors. He preferred it that way; looking at himself was always an unpleasant experience.

"Pine Tree." Bill's voice pierced the relative silence like a javelin, and it skewered right through Dipper's ear to penetrate his brain. "Pine Tree, my insides are enacting an uprising. What do I do about this? Will subjugation work? Because let me tell you, that's had an extremely high success rate for me."

Dipper glanced over, and found the demon curled over on himself, misshapen hands clutching at his abdominal region. "You ate too much, too fast," Dipper spoke in as even a monotone as he could muster. "There's pills in the bathroom for stomach pains. Read the labels, and make sure you follow the instructions. I'm serious. I won't call poison control if you swallow a handful of pills."

Bill's face attempted to scrunch up in irritation, but pained discomfort remained dominant. "Humans and your organic chemicals," he muttered, limping towards the stairs with three limbs, the other pressed against where Dipper assumed a stomach was located. He didn't even want to guess at Bill's internal structure.

Left with nothing else to do, Dipper contemplated sinking into the cushions beneath him and hibernating until he died of dehydration. Tempting, but that would leave Bill unchecked. So in lieu of decaying, he looked around his living room, eyes catching on a cabinet where he stored his old art books. Drawing had never been his forte, but Mabel had convinced him to at least try his hand at it. He was less than satisfied with the results. But hidden amongst those books was something else. Something much more meaningful. Dipper glanced at the stairs.

He was off the couch in moments, skirting around the food laden coffee table and approaching the cabinet underneath the television. He didn't even have to look; his fingers sought out the laminated plastic spine, and dragged it outwards. He held it in both hands, staring down at the glittery, looping handwriting on the front. 'Dipper and Mabel's Super Excellent Fun Adventure Memories: Big Dork Edition'. A present for his fifteenth birthday. He couldn't even remember what he'd given Mabel in return; something stupid, something that didn't convey the feelings he needed it to. But she loved it anyway.

Grief constricted his heart like a steel vice, but this was something he had to do. He  _needed_ to see her face, healthy and beaming. Alive. Dipper flipped through the book with tremors wracking his hands, and relived memories through blurred vision. It lit a fire in his insides that threatened to burn him to cinders, but he looked on regardless. He had to do this. He needed this more than anything else.

"These fading years, they do not last. Days pass in a flicker. And so we peer into the past, though the haze grows thicker," an unfortunately familiar voice murmured, low and sickly sweet in Dipper's ear. He froze like a lamb in the lion's maw, a startled gasp slipping free without his willing it. Sixteen fingers grasped the sides of his face from behind, pressing against his cheek and jaw bones, and tracing his teeth through his cheeks. "You sure got a lot of pills, Pine Tree. I hope I contributed to at least half of them."

Dipper swallowed the anxiety bubbling in his throat. "I... did you come up with that yourself? The poem." He'd never even thought it possible for Bill to create something so... benign. He seemed all about raw chaos and destruction.

"What? No, of course not. Poetry is a human concept; why would I ever bother with something so primitive and inane?" Bill was an extremely talented liar. His voice was smooth, and he didn't hesitate nor answer too quickly. But he was clearly unused to body language, if the way his fingers had stilled at Dipper's question was any indication.

Dipper had the strangest urge to smile. "Okay." He wasn't sure what to think of that; Bill Cipher, demon of dreams and Eye of Providence, moonlighting as a poet. It was almost funny. But it was also... Dipper's lips fell into a frown, and he discarded the thought. Don't think about it. Appease Bill. Protect Stan, and Ford, and anyone else Bill might set his sights on. Don't think. "I'm guessing you found the pills. They should kick in after about twenty minutes. Just... lie down until it happens, I guess. Watch TV if you want. Read a book."

"What limitless possibilities I have at my fingertips," Bill mocked sourly. "When are we gonna get out of this dump, anyway? I'm getting bored of the inside of your house. And when I get bored, I get... testy."

"We- you can't leave. You barely look human, and you don't even walk upright; people will know that something's wrong." Dipper winced reflexively, wishing he'd worded that in a.. more contrite manner.

"Are you kidding me? You humans are so lost in your own empty heads that you wouldn't notice if Grothnak the Unspeakable came thundering down the sidewalk. If anyone asks, just say I'm genetically malformed. And I'll have you know that quadrupedalism is significantly more efficient than bipedalism." Bill leaned all the way over Dipper's head, meeting his eyes with his own head upside down, close enough for their noses to touch. His hair hung downwards, each individual strand shimmering between basalt black and twenty four karat gold. Dipper tore his gaze away, and met a burning pupil. "You can't keep me in here, Pine Tree. If you try, I might just wander off on my own when you're not looking, and find trouble. Of course, I won't be the one getting harmed."

Bill certainly wasn't one for subtle threats. "Fine. We'll... work something out. I need groceries anyway," Dipper muttered, trying to pretend like he could get some benefit out of the situation. He could just as easily order groceries online to be delivered. But that didn't matter. Don't think. Appease Bill. Don't let anyone else get hurt. Dipper closed the scrapbook, and gently pushed the demon's head out of his way. He stuffed the book back into its cabinet, and put it out of his mind. Submerging himself in the past wouldn't solve anything. All he could do was look ahead, no matter how bleak the future appeared.

Dipper choked out a sound of alarm when Bill's fingers tightened around his face. He made to stutter out a question, beg for an explanation- but he was already being lifted off the ground. He scratched at Bill's wrists as his feet left the floor, and swore he heard something pop in his neck. "You're so light, Pine Tree. Like my own little ragdoll. How appropriate." Bill pulled back his lips in a forced grin, before letting go so he could crumple to the floor. Dipper looked up-

-and the demon looked utterly monumental. He looked even more deformed, playing at being a man. His arms hung so low that his fingers ended around mid calf. His legs were painfully thin, and bent in places they shouldn't. His garish black and yellow suit clung to him like a second skin in some places, and bunched up or hung loose in others. Dipper swallowed something bitter, and felt intimidation prickle at the back of his mind. The demon's amused grin only bolstered his desire to curl up and pretend that this repulsive monstrosity was just a product of his damaged psyche.

"Up and at 'em, Pine Tree. I don't have all day to wait for you to stop cowering. Although, I have to say, it's quite a good look on you." Bill flashed what he might have believed to be a sultry grin, but it shot a spike of fear through Dipper's gut. "But seriously, get up. I want to leave this stinking hovel."

"It isn't.." Dipper stifled his protest, realizing that it had certainly been awhile since he'd cleaned his house. Or himself, now that he thought about it. And on that note, Bill stank of blood and burnt meat and pizza grease. Neither of them was presentable in any way. "If we're going to go out, we should bathe. Separately. At different times. With only one person in the room. That person being the one that is alone and bathing separate of the other person." Had he made that clear enough?

"Yeesh, you sound like a broken record. Except worse, because you repeat the same thing in new and increasingly more annoying ways." Bill planted the tip of his shoe in Dipper's side, eliciting a pained wheeze that brought a smile to his face. It was enough to get the human on his feet, and Bill was satisfied with that.

Dipper rubbed his aching ribs, entirely certain that purple and black would bloom over the aggravated flesh in the near future. "Thanks for that," he said as dryly as he dared, plodding off towards the downstairs bathroom. He heard Bill's awkward, loping steps behind him, and glanced back just long enough to catch the look of intense concentration on the demon's face. It became a warped scowl when Bill registered his gaze, and he quickly looked away.

The lightbulbs overhead buzzed as Dipper flicked them on, revealing the rarely entered bathroom. It had all the necessities neatly crammed together into a cozy little space. Dipper pulled aside the curtain that concealed the bathtub/shower, and gestured lamely at the bottles lined up in a divot on the wall. "The small, clear one is face wash. Don't get it in your eyes. The big green one is body wash; pretty self explanatory. Blue is shampoo, and it goes in your hair. Don't get that in your eyes either. Conditioner is white, and you put it in your hair after washing out the shampoo. I don't need to tell you not to get it in your eyes, but I will anyway. And you can't eat any of it, no matter how much it smells like fruit." Dipper cleared his throat, feeling drained just from that short explanation. Talking didn't come very easy to him, anymore.

"Sounds like an involved process." Bill tapped his chin in mock contemplation. "I dunno, Pine Tree. I might need a few hours to mull over this one." Sarcasm dripped from his tongue like acid, and Dipper really did not appreciate it.

  
"Towels are in the cabinet under the sink," Dipper muttered with the least amount of vitriol possible, slamming the door behind him when he left the bathroom. If he came back after his shower to find a drowned demon, well... he certainly wouldn't be too upset.

Dipper made his silent ascent to the upstairs bathroom, feet dragging on the steps as he neared his destination. He didn't bother to lock the door behind him when he entered, severely doubting its ability to withstand a determined Bill Cipher. Or a murderous one, which was probably the more likely of the two. He stripped off his clothes and tossed them aside; the same t-shirt and sweatpants he'd been wearing for over a week. He couldn't muster the energy to be disgusted with his hygiene habits, or lack thereof. He was already coated in more than his fair share of self loathing. He climbed into the shower, which was thankfully separate from the tub, and strained to listen before he turned on the spray.

Nothing beyond the creak of pipes, and the distant sound of running water. At least Bill had figured that out. Dipper turned on his own shower, biting down on a shriek of shock when an icy deluge assaulted him. He frantically turned up the hot water, and eventually it became a pleasantly warm spray. Dipper felt his constant, aching tension loosen just a little, and he slowly lowered himself to the ground. He let the water run over him, and pretended that it could wash his sins away.

It couldn't. 


	6. Drenched

Consciousness came to him in slow, pulsing waves. The swathe of muscle where back, shoulders, and neck converged ached. He was soaked in blessed warmth, which pounded on him in rhythmic pressure. He was curled up against a hard surface, polished smooth against his spine. He was... he didn't have any clothes on, and his hair was plastered to his forehead. Dipper felt a frown forming on his face. He-

Dipper had fallen asleep in the shower. He opened his eyes, frantic, the pulse of wakefulness becoming a screaming klaxon of panic. That thing, it was- it had to be somewhere, waiting for him. Or stalking him, lurking just outside the door for him to emerge, vulnerable to its lethal gaze. His flesh would bubble and his meat would sear, and he'd be nothing but charcoal and ash- Dipper's wide, frantic gaze flickered up to the translucent shower door, and he saw a face pressed against it.

Dipper screamed so loud that it hurt his own ears. His throat was already sore, and his expulsion of sound had ripped it raw. He pressed himself as far into the corner as he could, ingrained instincts telling him to look as small as possible, don't make any sound, maybe it'll go away-

"Wowza, you've got some serious lungs on you, kid. Never heard you scream THAT loud before." The fractal visage of Bill Cipher smooshed further against the glass, and Dipper received the impression of a grin. "You gettin' out anytime soon? Because if not, I'll drag you."

Dipper panted for breath, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. Just Bill, just Bill- he would later reflect on his own thoughts, and he'd find it hilariously sad that seeing Bill had been a relief. But for now, the adrenaline flowing through him was ebbing away, and it left him feeling weak and vaguely dizzy. He made a noise that might have been a response to the demon's question, but it apparently wasn't the desired one.

"Right, I'm comin' in. Don't say I didn't warn you, Pine Tree!" Bill yanked open the shower door, letting a fraction of the still running spray splash onto the tiled floor. He ignored Dipper's squeak of indignation and moseyed on inside the glass prism, apparently uncaring of the spray that was soaking him. "Alright, you've got to the count of three. THREE!"

Dipper choked on a yelp as he felt Bill's misshapen hands grasp at his torso, struggling to get a grip on the slick, wet skin. "Bill what are you doing don't touch me why are you naked _I'm_  naked get out get _out_ -" The tumbleweed of words rolled out of him at mach speeds, and seemed to just barely miss its mark.

Bill grinned unnervingly (as if everything about him wasn't unnerving already) and hooked his arms under the naked, squirming human's armpits, easily lifting him off the floor and letting him dangle in the air. "See, was that so hard? Of course it wasn't. Look, I even answered my own question for you! If that isn't accomodating, I don't know WHAT is." Bill took a moment to inspect his human, eyes flickering to jutting hipbones, sharp shoulders, prominent ribs (Bill felt a surge of vicious pride at the sight of blossoming purple bruises), bony joints; his Pine Tree was so _angular_. Like a little polygon. Bill giggled hysterically at the comparison.

"Bill I swear, you'd better put me down right now-" Dipper froze at the feeling of Bill's unfiltered gaze scanning him. He flushed in indignation and embarrassment, despite the fact that he knew Bill had already seen everything before. 'Always watching' and all. When the demon was finished appraising him like a cut of meat, Dipper was slowly lowered onto his feet. He immediately shied away, thankful that his uncut hair hid the burning tips of his ears as he wrapped a towel around his waist. He turned back around, ready to lecture-

-and stared. Before him stood an absolutely alien being, just human enough to be scarily inhuman. Bill's skin was sickly pale, and tinged with a hint of green. It looked paper thin and stretched over him painfully tight, like saran wrap. He had no nipples to speak of, nor a belly button. His torso was a smooth canvas that revealed spiderwebs of bluish blood vessels and the faint outline of more ribs than Dipper expected. Dipper's eyes flicked downward- He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, head angled away unnecessarily. "..You should dry off again, and put some clothes on."

Bill pouted, despite Dipper having turned away. "Aww, where'd all that delicious fight go? You know I like it when you get defiant, Pine Tree. It's positively ADORABLE." Bill cackled at a pitch that surely should have shattered glass. "Your aversion to nudity is also adorable. And hilarious. Mostly the latter." Bill laughed again, slightly more subdued, before Dipper heard the wet slap of his hands and feet against the tile.

When he dared open his eyes again, Bill was gone, and there was a puddle of water on the floor. He was shocked that the demon had acquiesced to his request so readily. Deciding not to question it, Dipper toweled himself off before throwing the bath mat over the puddle on the floor. It'd dry up... probably. He peeked out into the hall before making a slightly hobbled sprint into his room. He went to work, picking through the piles of clothes like a vulture through carrion, tossing aside anything that was stained, or didn't smell clean. Eventually he managed to cobble together a full set of clothing, and dressed himself. He eyed the wet towel with the realization that he'd have to start doing laundry again, and groaned in despair.

Once his crisis was over, Dipper descended the stairs and emerged into the living room, where Bill was fully dressed and perched on the back of the couch. He looked... almost okay, now that he wasn't stained with bits of gore, and his hair wasn't matted with blood. It looked... otherworldly, the way it shimmered between colors. Dipper supposed that was appropriate. Bill gazed expectantly at him, and Dipper focused on his empty eye.

"Okay, if we're going outside, there's a few stipulations." Dipper cleared his throat, resisting the urge to quail under the demon's unbroken stare. "Walk on your feet only. No crawling around. I'll put together an eyepatch for you, but you have to keep it on the whole time we're out. If you have no choice but to talk to someone, and I'll repeat, if there is _no other choice_ , please avoid mentioning teeth, or organs, or creatures from the nightmare realms. No trying to make deals of any kind. Don't tell people the exact time and circumstances of their deaths, don't ask invasive questions about their marriage, or kids, or any potential interpersonal issues they might possess." Dipper wracked his brain for other ways that Bill could catastrophically annihilate their trip outside. "Try to keep your hands in your pockets. Don't eat anyone. Don't talk about eating anyone. Don't eat anyone's pets, either. And..." Dipper trailed off, noticing the burning intensity of Bill's stare.

The demon slid one leg from the back of the couch to the floor in a slow, fluid movement. The rest of him followed, unfolding and unwinding and carrying him like a dancing marionette towards the slowly retreating Dipper Pines. Bill crawled up to him, rearing up on his feet and heavily planting his hands on the man's shoulders. He leaned in, close enough for their faces to touch. "That sure sounds like an awful lot of restrictions, Pine Tree. And as we all know, I'm quite... free spirited." He breathed the words into his human's face, relishing the flinch. "If I'm going to consider following even one of these rules, I require compensation. What've you got to offer me, hm?"

Dipper locked up like a malfunctioning computer, only just realizing how far he'd overstepped his unspoken boundaries. He could feel Bill watching the bob of his adam's apple as he swallowed. "I... while we're out, I'll buy you anything that catches your interest. Any food you want. A whole wardrobe of clothes, anything you pick out." That was reasonable, right? He desperately hoped it was.

"..." Bill was silent and contemplative. Every moment that passed caused the buzz of anxiety in Dipper's stomach to increase in intensity. Just when it had escalated to a horrible screech, so loud it just about took Dipper's breath away, Bill spoke. "Yeah, that's fine. I agree to your terms." Bill easily rocked back on his heels, smiling in that painfully angular way of his and stretching out a hand. "Wanna shake on it?" He laughed at the look of horror that must have formed on Dipper's face. "Ah, just kidding. This time, at least."

Dipper released a shuddering breath, wondering vaguely if he'd have heart problems later in life from how often it went nuclear in his chest. If he made it that long, at least. "Okay. Okay, uhm. Eyepatch. I'll go... get. Stuff. For the eyepatch." Dipper left the room as quickly as he could without tripping over himself, heading into the downstairs bathroom to retrieve one of the (several) medical kits stashed around his home. He fumbled through it once he'd extracted it from behind the mirror, thoughts racing through his head-

-No. Don't think. Appease Bill. Don't let anyone get hurt. Dipper was overcome with an artificial calm; a lingering chill that numbed the panic in his chest. He was fairly sure it wasn't healthy, but that didn't matter right now. He carefully retrieved a pad of sterile gauze, as well as a few pieces of medical tape. He stowed away the kit and slunk back into the living room, feeling vaguely embarrassed by his hasty retreat. The demon watched him expectantly as he approached, before they were both just stood there, staring at one another. "...I, ah. I-if you could lean down..."

"Oh. Sure thing, short stack!" Bill snickered and hunched over, spine bending unnaturally as he lowered himself to eye level. He caught the flash of grief in Dipper's eyes, and felt a thrill of satisfaction. Always watching. He blinked demurely at the human, trying to disturb him with a too-wide grin. It was moderately successful, if the way Dipper's hands shook was any indication. They neared his face, and Bill shut his useless eye as pale fingers approached with a pad of gauze. They gently pressed it over his socket, and he was mildly surprised by how careful the kid was being, even with his trembling. One hand held the pad in place as the other taped it over, the edges of the adhesive strips pulling at the skin around Bill's eye. It was an interesting sort of discomfort. He waited for Dipper's slow retreat, his grin everlasting. "Thanks for the accessory, Pine Tree! You're always getting me such thoughtful gifts."

"..Y-yeah." Dipper felt something crawl up the back of his neck, and it wasn't completely unpleasant. That scared him more than the demon in front of him. "If we're going out, we should probably go now, before it gets.." Dipper glanced at the window, only to see the barest hint of light peeking through, "..dark." He frowned and peered through the glass on his front door, only to see the steady downpour of rain. "Of course. Uh... could we possibly do this another time-"

"NOPE!" Bill yelled gleefully, slinking an arm around Dipper's torso and yanking him towards the door. He yanked it open (unlocked, Pine Tree? Talk about a lack of home security!) and managed to squeeze both of them through the doorway without banging against anything-Dipper yelped in pain, and Bill corrected himself. _Mostly_ without banging against anything. He walked far enough for them to be soaked by the rain before he set down the squirming Pine Tree, turning his face up into the deluge and counting as many droplets as he could before they hit him in the face.

Dipper stood in the middle of the street, rain pouring off him and matting his hair. His clothes were well on their way to being completely soaked through. "...I guess hypothermia isn't such a bad way to go out," he murmured darkly, trudging towards the sidewalk. Bill's heavy footsteps soon joined his own, and he silently wondered how the demon could go from moving near silently to slapping his limbs against every available surface to make as much noise as possible. He seemed to have taken to the latter at the moment, splashing in puddles that flicked droplets on Dipper's back. Not that it made a difference.

The world around them was painted grey by the veil of rain and the occluding clouds overhead. Dipper shuddered at the muted pigments, trying to remind himself that he wasn't in the Mindscape, and Bill couldn't-... couldn't do what, exactly? He was physical now. Bill Cipher could do whatever he pleased, and Dipper Pines could do absolutely nothing to stop him. He could only amuse the demon for so long before Bill grew bored of him. He'd be summarily disposed of, in a grisly, excruciating manner, and then Bill would sow chaos in the streets, wreak havoc upon the innocent, rain destruction from the skies-

Bill watched with vague interest as Dipper collapsed to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. He could hear the kid's harsh, shallow breaths even with the downpour around them. "Hey, as much fun as your little episodes are, we've got some business to attend to." Bill loped over, frowning down at the human, who clearly hadn't registered being spoken to. Bill tapped him in the back with a shoe, and it earned him a slight flinch, but no verbal response. "C'mon, I don't have all day. We made a deal, Pine Tree. AND I'M SURE YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GO BACK ON A DEAL." Bill heard a particularly violent intake of breath, before Dipper slowly rose from the concrete on trembling legs. His arms were wrapped in a vice grip around his torso, and his head was bowed, but he was at least moving. Satisfied, Bill followed at a pleasantly relaxing pace behind him. He was glad that Pine Tree had gotten the memo so quickly.

Time was precious, after all.


	7. Piercing

Dipper could taste salt on his tongue. It wasn't much of a surprise, considering what had been dripping into his barely closed mouth. He kept huffing out little wheezing breaths, grasping futilely for the frigid numbness that eluded him. He couldn't... there was nothing to distract him, out here. Concrete, asphalt, and rain were his entire reality. He could barely see through fat, rapidly descending droplets; they were so tightly packed that everything beyond a forty foot radius was nothing but a blur of grey. He felt confined. But where he had once found the suffocating darkness to be his greatest security, this bleak monotone choked him out with its uniformity.

Even his skin was pallid and colorless, washed out by his surroundings and his own neglect. There was only one thing that provided any color, and it was the last thing he ever wanted to look at again. Beyond the sound of pouring rain, there were footsteps. And beyond that was a jaunty, off-tune whistle. Dipper could scarcely connect his desolate bubble of existence with the brightly colored monstrosity that followed mere feet behind him. He'd almost rather be alone. Almost.

"Are you introspecting over there, Pine Tree? If so, keep it up! Maybe you'll cause yourself even more grief for no good reason; wouldn't that just be a treat!" Bill's horrid laughter was muted by the rain, but it was still perfectly effective at scraping abrasively against Dipper's brain. At least he'd stopped whistling.

They walked in relative silence for what felt like decades. Dipper's slow, plodding footsteps squished each time they slapped the concrete, his socks and shoes soaked completely through. At least the rain wasn't freezing, like it was during the winter. Dipper had the sudden realization that he wasn't sure what season it was. Spring, possibly. It couldn't be summer, because he usually spent those in the cozy, mystifying embrace of Gravity Falls. He knew he'd never make it back there.

Eventually, as the rain began to let up, Dipper saw lights. A mall that he couldn't remember the name of. He hurried through the parking lot, finding it sparsely populated. There was a couple with an umbrella some distance away. Not important. He burst in through automated doors of steel and glass, chest heaving with little, shuddering breaths as he dripped onto the rough fiber mat underfoot. He stared down at his shoes, flexing his toes to make sure he could still feel them, and a second pair entered his field of vision. He glanced up to find Bill looming ominously, a curious look on his face. His hair was completely black at the moment, Dipper noted. Not a speck of gold was visible.

"Wow, what an incredibly thrilling journey we've had. I cannot wait to write home to mama and papa, and tell them of my life changing experiences." Bill leered down at Dipper as he spoke, not a trace of his grin to be found.

"I don't understand what you're upset about," Dipper mumbled. "You dragged me out into the rain, remember?" No, no. Don't make it sound like his fault. Don't make Bill angry. Appease him. Don't let anyone get hurt. "I-I mean, we... I should have grabbed an umbrella, I guess. I just wasn't thinking."

"You're always thinking, Pine Tree! That's one of my favorite things about you. How that little brain can just keep pumping out useless information and terrible ideas. And thoughts of admiration concerning myself, of course." Seemingly over his several seconds of bad mood, Bill grinned and tugged on his hand, leading him through a second set of automated doors and into what looked like a department store. Racks of clothes were lined in rows on sections of carpeted floor, and lines of linoleum marked the path between them. "Ohh, human clothes. And they're all so... boring. I need something that appeals to my sense of class. Maybe something with a triangle or several on it."

"I don't think this particular store carries formal wear," Dipper explained. "But... there's a place on the other side of the mall that probably has a selection that will appeal to your.." Dipper coughed into his hand, "refined taste in fashion."

If Bill had picked up on the sarcasm, he didn't seem to mind it. "Eh, I guess that can wait for a while. Let's go oogle at useless trinkets and baubles like mindless consumer drones, shall we?" Bill once again led the way, his long legged gait making it difficult for Dipper to keep up without tripping over his own feet. They left a trail of puddles behind them, and some of the passing shoppers gave them odd looks. Dipper decided it was because they were both soaked to the bone, and not because Bill was a walking abomination.

They ended up finding their way to a kiosk of jewelry, and Bill spent several long minutes loudly pontificating about the lacking quality of everything they had available, much to the visible annoyance of the woman manning the kiosk. Her attitude did a smooth one eighty as Bill picked out a pair of golden studs ("What? It's important to follow your own advice," he'd explained unnecessarily) and stared pointedly at Dipper until the human sighed and forked over a debit card. Somehow his wallet had avoided the worst of the rain, and Dipper was sure if he'd brought the real leather one it would have been ruined. As it was, the synthetic leather wallet was just a bit moist, and all his cards and cash were unharmed.

Bill eventually dragged him away, carting a small plastic bag with his ear studs inside. It was placed inside of a second, identical bag ("Always have a failsafe, Pine Tree.") which several of Bill's fingers were laced through. If the kiosk employee had noticed Bill's unusual abundance of fingers, she hadn't shown any visible reaction to them.

Their next stop was one that Dipper had decided on, surprisingly. He'd try to explain to Bill that no, he couldn't just shove the studs into his ears, or cut a hole with a knife, and had inevitably given up on trying to get the point across. Instead, he took point and lead the demon towards a tattoo/piercing parlor, where Dipper had a hushed conversation with the only visible employee. Luckily, Bill was distracted by a display of different tattoo designs ("Look Pine Tree, it's me!" he'd boasted, pointing at the Eye of Providence) and was thus unable to harrass anyone.

The actual piercing process was... interesting, to say the least. Bill had squirmed incessantly while babbling about cartilage and the sensitive workings of the inner ear, as well as the best ways to remove or otherwise mutilate them, before Dipper managed to convince him to stop moving with promises of lunch right after. Bill yowled like an injured cat when his ear was actually pierced, before beginning to giggle incessantly. Pain was apparently as funny as it had always been. Bill spent the next few minutes with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, visibly straining with the desire to pull and tug and yank on the starter studs that had been put in his ears. He completely ignored the detailed instructions of how to care for them and prevent infection, while Dipper listened intently and wished he had a way to take physical notes.

And then they were walking out of the parlor, Bill looking painfully pleased with himself while Dipper already appeared ragged and exhausted. "Pine Tree, are you sure I have to wait six weeks? What about six minutes? Those are practically the same thing, when you really think about how immaterial and inconsistent the flow of time is."

"No, you have to follow the instructions, or you might permanently damage your ears." Dipper wasn't sure why he even cared. It's not like he'd even be alive six weeks from now, right?

"Hmm.. you've made a compelling argument, Pine Tree. However, I wish to present a different perspective." Bill paused, before violently yanking the starter studs out of his earlobes and fumbling for his golden ones with one hand, the other holding Dipper at bay. He eventually fished them out and managed to fit them in the pierced holes, and... they looked perfectly fine. Bill wiped away a small dribble of blood (darker than it should have been) and licked it off his finger. "There, perfect. See, isn't it so much easier when you just listen to what I have to say?"

Dipper was paying more attention to the possibility that someone else had been paying attention to Bill's little self mutilation event, but not a single eye was on them. He breathed a shaking sigh of relief, before turning a frown on the demon. "You're going to seriously hurt yourself if you do things like that." Why did he even _care_ -

Bill considered this for all of a microsecond. "Nah. I added my own special blend of herbs and spices to this flesh vessel, remember?" Bill proudly flicked one of his ear studs. "And speaking of, I recall that you promised food."

Just the thought of eating mall food made Dipper's stomach turn. "Okay, fine. we'll get food. Is there anywhere you'd prefer to eat from?" Dipper gestured vaguely at the rows of 'restaurants' that lined either side of the food court.

Bill hummed in contemplation much louder than was necessary, one eye flickering over the various signs. "That one." He pointed with four fingers towards the most colorful sign available.

Dipper squinted, and attempted to make out the name from where they were standing. Right, he'd forgotten his contacts. "I... that's a smoothie place. They don't serve actual food."

Bill made a face, and a small child in the nearby vicinity began crying loudly. "What's the point of it? This is supposed to be a food court, right? Speaking of, I don't see any courtiers. What a disgrace."

Dipper stared at him for a moment before the information was processed. "It's not- this isn't that kind of court. Just pick another one, okay?" His head was pounding, and his patience was quickly running dry. If only the rest of him would follow suit.

"That one, then." Bill flapped a hand towards the second most colorful sign available, and it turned out to be some cheap Chinese food place. Okay, Dipper could work with that. Maybe he'd be able to choke down some fried rice, or something.

"Alright. Let's go order something, then." Dipper hesitantly lead the way, casting his gaze askew to try and scope out an empty table as they approached. They waited in line for only a minute or so, but Bill already looked on the verge of leaping over the counter and taking whatever he wanted. Dipper was eventually stood in front of a humorless looking employee, and smiled awkwardly. "Hi. Uhm, I think we'll be-"

And then Bill was shoving him aside, a manic look on his face as he leaned closer to the employee. "Seven. Fourteen. Eight. Ninety two. Savor the flesh while it yet rots; putrid blood will flow like sweetest wine. Sixty. Eight hundred thirty nine."

Dipper felt all the blood in his face drain away. He gently nudged his way around a giggling Bill, a rictus grin offered to the horrifed employee. "U-uh. We'll take the fried rice and the sweet-and-sour duck."

Minutes later found them sat at a secluded little table, Bill viciously stabbing at his duck and swirling it in sauce before he tore it to bits. He appeared perfectly pleased with his meal. Dipper attempted to glare him down, but the demon was either ignorant to his ire, or didn't care. He was betting on the latter.

"What is _wrong_ with you? You're lucky that employee didn't call security on us, or something," he hissed, fried rice untouched for the moment.

"I said nothing that violated the parameters you had outlined," Bill replied smugly. "Besides, he'll be fine. Who knows; maybe I gave him something to think about, so he doesn't have to stand there with an empty head for the rest of his sad little life."

"You- you can't just say things like that to people!" Dipper scooped up a forkful of rice, and somehow managed to get it down his esophagus.

"Funny thing about that; I'm pretty sure I just did. You were there, if I remember correctly." Bill flicked a wrist at him dismissively, before returning to the utter devastation of his food. Apparently he was done with the conversation.

Dipper sullenly picked at his food, barely managing to eat a quarter of it before his stomach started cramping. He'd just take the rest home, or something. Maybe he'd even eat all of it before it went bad this time. Unlikely. Dipper couldn't remember the last time he'd finished a meal. Well, it was more like he didn't want to remember. Don't think. It's not important anymore.

"Lookin' a bit pensive, Pine Tree. Anything you wanna share?" Bill leaned over the table, sitting up a little so he could cross entirely over to Dipper's side. His studs glinted in the florescent lights overhead, and they somehow caused his face to clash even more horribly with itself.

"Yes, let me share with you my innermost thoughts and feelings. I'm sure you'd make a great confidant," Dipper muttered scathingly, without really thinking about it. He froze up, heart thudding wildly, but Bill didn't seem to take any sort of offense. On the contrary, he barked out his signature cackle, and it cut through the background noise like a knife.

"That's the spirit I'm looking for. Nice to see you aren't totally broken yet." Bill had taken to scooping up the rest of his sauce with a fork, and sucking it off the tines. If this were a terrible romance movie, Dipper would have called it suggestive. As it was, he could only think of the rows of teeth hidden behind those dead lips, and how they could surely pierce flesh like it was nothing. A shudder ran through him, starting from the base of his spine and vibrating up to his skull.

"Your human food is revolting, Pine Tree. I can't wait to eat it again." Bill abruptly shot up from his seat, and turned to amble off in the other direction. Dipper hastily stuffed his takeout box in a plastic bag and shoved Bill's trash into a trash can before hurrying after the demon. Don't think. Don't let him out of your sight. Appease Bill. Don't let him hurt anyone else.

"I'm glad to see that you've accepted your temporary existence as a putrid flesh bag with an open mind," Dipper murmured once he had been lured in by the demon's strange, magnetic pull. He'd found himself walking much closer to Bill than he'd intended several times already.

"More of an open mouth, really." Bill snickered for a few moments too long, but thankfully it was at a tolerable volume. "So, next stop on our little venture is the boutique where I will enhance my wardrobe with class and style. How exciting." Despite his sarcastic tone, Bill appeared to be shaking with anticipation.

"Yeah, it's not too far from here." Dipper's knowledge of the shop in question came from one of the few times he'd needed to rent a tux. It was for- Dipper violently shoved the thought out of his head. Don't think. "Please, try not to go overboard. After this, I want to pick you up some casual wear, but I can't do that if you bleed my card dry." Dipper wasn't sure why the demon needed casual wear at all. It was probably because he was so sick of seeing that hideous yellow suit jacket.

Bill flapped a hand as if he were swatting a swarm of flies. "Yeah, yeah. I won't deplete your precious money hoard. You humans and your stocks and dividends. I've been telling you apes to buy gold for years, but nobody ever listens. Well, who's laughing now?!" Bill very clearly had no idea what he was talking about, but his derisive boasting (how did he even manage that) helped to conceal that fact. Dipper supposed he hadn't been able to cram a trillion years of knowledge into a physical brain.

The store they stopped in front of was... Dipper squinted, but was unable to read the name. Cursive was so unnecessary. Whatever it was called, Bill wasted no time in bursting inside, and Dipper struggled to keep up. "Oh, the smell of unnecessarily expensive clothing! How invigorating." Bill sniffed the air and sighed in pleasure, much to the chargrin of the attendant that had been coming to greet them.

"Hey, Bill, why don't you... take a look around." Dipper tried to smile at the attendant, but it came out as more of a terrified grimace. He waited until the demon had started wandering around to pull out his wallet, and fish around for cash. Two hundred thirty five. It would do. Dipper pressed the wad of bills into the attendant's hand, and saw the man's eyes light up. "Listen, I need you to just ignore anything he says that doesn't involve what clothes he wants. He's an..." Dipper searched for the right word. "An eccentric, but his money is good."

"Of course, sir," the attendant responded resolutely. "I will do my absolute best to provide an exceptional experience for you both." Dipper could smell the greed rolling off the man in waves, but ignored it for now. Not important.

"Pine Tree, they don't have anything in yellow!" Bill bellowed across the store, sounding irate. "What kind of hive of inadequacy did you bring me to?!"

Dipper made very meaningful eye contact with the attendant, who immediately departed with a "I'm sure we have something in the back".

"Don't worry," Dipper attempted to soothe the demon to avoid any sort of property damage or loss of life. "We'll get you something that you'll like. Just... be patient." Unthinking, he snagged Bill by the elbow and pulled him over to a mannequin clad in a particularly pleasant blue suit. He opened his mouth to say something, before he saw the raw disgust on Bill's face. Right, no blue. "Uh... the attendant should be back soon."

There was a clatter and a bang from wherever the man had disappeared to, and he emerged into the store proper mere moments later, arms laden with a mannequin. It wore a charcoal black suit lined with shimmering gold velvet, as well as golden threads that shined from the seams. Underneath it was a collared shirt in a particularly pleasing shade of yellow. Bill was immediately enraptured. "Boy howdy, I think this one will perfectly magnify my already astounding presence. I want it now."

The attendant cleared his throat politely. "I'm afraid that you will need it custom tailored to your... unique stature, sir. Luckily, I have the card of a particularly proficient tailor just in town." He fished out a business card, and Dipper hastily plucked it up before Bill could even reach for it.

"Thank you very much. How long do you think it would take to have it tailored?" Dipper glanced out of the corner of his eye at the demon, who seemed too busy admiring the suit to pay attention to the conversation.

"Shouldn't take longer than two weeks, sir." The attendant's gaze flickered to where Dipper had hastily stuffed his wallet, and he pulled it out with a puff of breath. Whatever. Money wasn't worth much to him, anyway. He handed over his debit card, and when he looked back, the demon and the suit were gone.

"Uh. I... you charge that, and I'll be right back." Dipper stumbled away as fast as his legs would take him, following the slightly damp trail of footprints Bill had left behind. He was... in a changing room? "..Bill? You know the suit won't fit you, right? We need to get it tailo-" Dipper cut himself off and jumped backwards as the door swung open. Bill stepped smoothly through the doorway, and Dipper gaped. He looked... almost like a person, in that suit. Certainly he appeared an intimidating, sharply dressed monster. His hair, still slightly damp from the rain outside, shone like veins of gold amongst onyx. The suit fit him like a glove, somehow, cufflinks covering his knobby wrists and pant legs resting flush against the top of his shoes. His disturbing grin somehow managed to enhanced his perfectly crafted cheekbones, and Dipper swallowed whatever he was going to say. He could barely stand to look at the demon...

But right now, it was easier than ever.


	8. Something Different

  
Leaving the boutique was a surprisingly simple affair. Dipper had managed to convince Bill to take off his new suit (he still wasn't sure how it fit) by informing him that it would be ruined by the rain, and he wouldn't be able to wear it again. Unfortunately that had the side effect of Bill putting back on his hideous yellow affront against fashion. Dipper pulled the attendant aside one last time, informing him in very a very clear, concise manner that he wouldn't talk about them. He'd made a sale, and that was the end of it. Thankfully his original bribe was enough to float him a second time, and they walked out of the store without further incident.

"So, Pine Tree," Bill spoke up much more loudly than he needed to, "I can't help but wonder why we walked all the way here in the rain. I saw the vehicle out in front of your house." Bill blinked (or winked, possibly) at him, and the look on his face told Dipper that he surely already had an idea of why.

Dipper mulled over the demon's question, unsure if he should even bother to give him a proper answer. Only... what was the point of not answering? Bill already knew how pathetic he was, and it wasn't like he really had any pride left. Dipper swallowed the glass in his throat, before mumbling an answer. "..I don't trust myself to drive."

Bill stared at him with such intensity that Dipper swore his heart stopped for a moment. And then the look faded away, the demon breaking out into a grotesque grin. "That's hilarious. Scared you'll give up the ghost and just fling yourself off the road, Pine Tree? How ironic it would be to die by your own namesake."

Dipper could picture, very vividly, the image of himself dead at the wheel. The front of his car was crumpled and smoking, glass littered the front console. The impact had killed him almost instantaneously. He was cold and lifeless, slumped in his seat, and the EMTs didn't arrive in time. "...Yeah. Ironic." Dipper shook the image from his head. Don't think. "C'mon, we're gonna get you some more clothes before we leave."

"What's the point of owning so many clothes? You can't wear more than one outfit at a time." Bill walked practically on his heels, and Dipper could feel him looming ominously.

"It's so I don't have to wash your one outfit every single day," Dipper replied patiently. "If you have multiple sets of clothes, you can wear a different one every day, and then wash them when you run low."

"That sounds like a waste of time-"

"I know, right?!" Dipper exclaimed, cutting off whatever Bill was going to say. "There's so many more important things to do than laundry, so much so that one of those things that's more important is writing a book of all the things more important than doing laundry. Mabel's always on my case about... a-about.."

Bill raised an eyebrow when Dipper trailed off. "What's the matter, Pine Tree? You were on such a roll! You haven't been that enthused in a long time. I can't imagine why." The flash of teeth made Dipper's stomach writhe.

"I'm going home." Dipper's tone was curt and terse, and he didn't look up from the floor. His insides felt like they were being fed through a meat grinder, and he did his best to not let it show. Don't give Bill the satisfaction. As if he didn't already know how Dipper was affected by his actions.

"You said you'd buy me clothes, Pine Tree." Where his tone might have normally been cranked up to a mocking whine, it now ran with dark currents.

Dipper violently ripped his wallet out of his pocket, and shoved it into Bill's chest. "Buy your own clothes. I'm _leaving_." He turned on a heel, and began briskly making his way to the exit on the far side of the department store.

"You promised you'd buy me the clothes yourself, Pine Tree. Now, I don't know about you, but giving me your card and telling me to buy them myself sounds like a real deal breaker." Bill watched with an ooze of vicious delight as Pine Tree froze in mid step, one foot hovering in the air for a moment of silence between them.

And then Dipper turned around to return to his keeper. He wordlessly accepted the wallet that Bill held out for him, and flinched when the demon rested a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't any warmer than his own hands, but it still seared his flesh through his clothes. "Glad you're getting the picture, Pine Tree." Bill beamed at him, and squeezed until he could feel between the joints of Dipper's shoulder. He earned a flinch and a small whimper of discomfort, but nothing beyond that.

The rest of their time outside was a blur. Dipper sleepwalked through a haze of vibrant colors and a cloud of buzzing static. They weren't important. The only thing he truly registered was a high pitched screech of a voice, murmuring his name on occasion. Or rather, the name it had chosen for him. He detested that nickname almost as much as he did its provider. To think that detestment was the strongest feeling he could cobble together at the moment. Grief provided a dark backdrop to the fizzling sparks of emotion in his chest. They died in moments, sputtering and going out without a trace of ever having been there. Part of him wished he could do the same. But he had already left his mark, by taking from the world one of its brightest stars. Backdrop became center focus, aching and crippling and acute. It took his breath from him, and he struggled to wrench it back. The moans of despair in the back of his mind screamed a song of suffocation. The rain drenched him to the bone.

"Pine Tree. Pine Treeeeee. Up and at 'em, tiger." Bill paused, looking irate when the kid didn't respond to him. He'd been walking perfectly fine a moment ago; sure, Bill'd had to drag him a fair ways, but his feet were moving and that's what counted. The demon cursed under his breath, something inhuman in the syllables his tongue struggled to produce. Bill barreled his way through the front door, one again dripping with rain water. He watched it collect in a puddle under his feet, and found it to be an excellent place to drop both Dipper's food and his own clothes before his head snapped over to the inert Pine Tree. "Oh, right. How could I forget?" Bill grasped for a bony wrist and yanked the kid inside with a bruising grip. The idea of his Pine Tree being painted black and purple sent a dark thrill through him. He stared at the pathetic, shivering thing that stood before him, and decided that he couldn't let him die of cold or whatever just yet. "Just you wait, Pine Tree. I'll have you right as rain in no time." Bill's cackling laughter echoed throughout the house long after he'd disappeared upstairs.

When the demon returned, he was carrying an armful of towels of various sizes, and was whistling a piercing tune with no real structure. He saw Dipper sat against the front door, and saw it as a marked improvement. "Hate to uproot you, Pine Tree, but your fragile little meat sack body probably can't handle the cold for much longer. Luckily, I am here to prolong your suffering." Bill beamed down at him, and murky, unfocused eyes stared back. "I thank you for your cooperation." The demon wasted no time in yanking the human off the floor by the neck, silently marvelling at his own grip strength. More really was better! He placed the kid on his feet, swiftly yanking off the soaked rag of a shirt he was wearing, as well as the jeans that might as well have been painted on him. He tossed them aside without a care, giggling at the wet splat they made. Sounds were so much more visceral in a physical body. He yanked Dipper over to the couch by the arm, making sure to grab the one he hadn't already injured. Pine Tree only needed a gentle push before he was sat on the couch, and Bill finished him off by dumping a load of towels on him. "There you go, good as new. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna try out this sleeping thing. Can't be too difficult, right?" Bill worked his way out of his own suit, wrapped a throw blanket that reeked of Shooting Star's knitting prowess around his shoulders, and curled up a few cushions over from Pine Tree. "...Goodnight!"

Dipper wasn't sure when he managed to sleep; sometime after he had stopped trembling, he thought dimly. But what he did know, was that the Mindscape was there to greet him when he had. 


	9. Familiar

Dipper's Mindscape was broken. There was no other word he could use to describe it. Pieces of the Shack's attic and his own bedroom and living room were crunched together, barely constructing two and a half walls between them. Pure grey nothing stretched beyond the crumpled architecture, and the sight of it made him feel painfully infinitesimal. He took a deep breath to quash the murmur of panic in his stomach, faintly wondering why he wasn't more worried about being back here.

Not important. All he needed to do was take stock of the situation, and wait it out. He slid his hands along his arms, his face, his chest. Whole. All in one piece. He wasn't completely sure why he wouldn't be. He chanced a look down, and saw both that he had been relieved of his outer layers of clothing, and that a chunk of his couch resided beneath him. The colorless surroundings washed him out, and for a moment he'd worried that he had gone monotone as well. He'd fallen asleep in the living room, it seemed. He frowned, and tried to remember past the veil of his forced retreat from his senses and surroundings. Bill had... brought him home. Dried him off. Made sure he wouldn't succumb to adverse effects from the cold. Had fallen asleep right next to-

"Oh boy, it is GOOD to be back! Relatively speaking. As much as I hate this place, it's hard to not feel nostalgic about the dimension you'd been trapped in for billions of years. Feels very homey." Bill's voice boomed through the empty Mindscape, and thankfully had nothing to echo off of. "Although I gotta say, I don't quite remember your Mindscape being such a fixer-upper. Looks like a tornado came through here, and it brought a lousy interior decorator along for the ride. Gee, I wonder why that is." Bill snickered as he crawled over the invisible surface of the Mindscape. He rose up on his haunches when his hands met hardwood flooring, staring Dipper down with the twitching, triangular pupil that had inhabited his blanked eye. "Wow. Stereoscopy sure is disorienting! All this depth is making my head spin!"

Dipper recoiled as Bill's head twisted and twisted until there was a snap of bone, and it could turn a full three hundred and sixty degrees. "Is that entirely necessary?" The dryness of his tone only served to enhance how weak and paltry it came out.

"Nothing is necessary, Pine Tree. Things happen based on randomised happenstance, not because they're supposed to." Bill's wisdom(?) was spouted from a head that was no longer attached to his neck. He tossed it idly between his hands.

"Right, the theory of chaos or whatever." Dipper thought there might have been a time where he'd be willing to discuss such things at length, even with Bill Cipher. Not so much anymore. "What's the point of coming back here? You're already in my house. You have nothing to gain from pulling me into the Mindscape."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you weren't listening!" Bill screwed his head back on like a lightbulb, slinking his way over to the section of couch that Dipper was standing on. "Things don't have to happen for a reason, Pine Tree. If I want to bring you to the Mindscape, I'll do it. If I want to regale you with tales of my greatness, I'll do it. If I want to, oh, I dunno..." Bill lashed out with one arm, and it punched directly through Dipper's midsection as if it were naught but wet paper, "tear apart your insides, or something, just a random example, I'll do it," he spoke loudly over the kid's screaming, eight fingers grasping at the curve of his spine. "You know, it's almost disappointing. You used to have such backbone, Pine Tree. But lately, you've been completely SPINELESS!" Bill yanked with all his might-

And Dipper shot up with a ragged gasp, breathing in the smell of damp towel. He shook the offending fabric off his face, and found the visage of Bill Cipher staring back at him. Dipper was almost proud of the fact that he didn't scream, but his flinch was enough to dislodge some of the towels that had apparently been dropped on his head. "...I really didn't appreciate that," he muttered, in lieu of any action or statement that could be taken as directly hostile. He could still feel phantom fingers rummaging through his insides.

"Well I did, and isn't that what really matters?" Bill beamed a winning smile, tearing towels off of Pine Tree and carelessly tossing them aside. "Speaking of things that matter, I require more human food, so we're going out to buy some."

"...Right." Dipper wasn't even sure if it was worth standing up, at this point. If he could get away with sleeping while the demon was out... then Bill would inevitably destroy someone or something without his supervision. Dipper made a tortured little sound, and got up from the couch. "...Need to get dressed." He gestured absently at the completely nude demon, before turning to grab his own clothes. "Something casual, please," he called back on his way up the stairs.

Dipper calmly walked into his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. The wood was cold against his back when he slid down it, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He could still feel Bill within him, stirring up his insides and ripping him apart and- Dipper tried to remind himself that he'd done essentially the same thing to himself, but purging his impurity had been so dreamish that he barely felt anything when thinking about it. It was like a movie starring himself; he saw it from a third person perspective, and felt no attachment to the events taking place. It was funny that Bill's mutilating him in an actual dream felt so much more real.

He just... didn't understand why. Bill had shown little in the way of a desire to injure him, beyond leaving a few minor bruises. Maybe it was just because it wouldn't be a permanent injury. Bill could do whatever he pleased in the Mindscape. He could do whatever he pleased to _Dipper_. He swallowed a leaden sob, and pressed his forehead against his arms. Don't think. Appease Bill. Don't let him hurt anyone else.

A particularly loud knock on the door broke Dipper from his downward spiral, at least for the moment. "Pine Tree, you've been in there for like ten minutes! Or possibly four hours. It's difficult to tell, CONSIDERING YOU DON'T HAVE ANY CLOCKS."

"R..right. I'll be out in just a little while." Dipper climbed to his feet, bracing himself against the door that he was sure Bill was also leaning on. He scooped a pile of clothes off the ground, sniffed it, and when it didn't cause him to gag he decided it was acceptable. He sloppily dressed himself, wearing his shirt inside out but not caring enough to fix it. He turned the handle on the door-

-and it flew open, knocking him aside and allowing Bill to fall like a particularly twiggy tree trunk. His head landed on Dipper's abdomen, and he wheezed in pain. "Hahaha! We should do that again. The look on your face was priceless." Bill rose from the floor like a marionette on strings, and stared down at Dipper. He looked so odd, actually dressed in regular(ish) clothing. A shirt, a jacket, jeans; other than his oxfords and the bowtie (Dipper still wasn't sure where he got his original clothes), he almost looked like a normal seven foot tall monster clad in dizzyingly bright shades of yellow.

"Let's not repeat that, thank you." Dipper staggered to his feet, almost feeling disappointed that the demon hadn't offered him a hand. He shook the thought away; why would Bill even bother doing something that didn't directly benefit him?

"You're such a stick in the mud, Pine Tree. But hey, maybe that's why I like you so much; you keep me rooted!" Bill cackled obnoxiously at his own jokes, and continued doing so all the way down the stairs and out the front door. "Ohhh, sometimes I forget how incredibly hilarious I am."

"Very funny," Dipper agreed for the sake of padding the demon's ego. If he was acting self absorbed, then he couldn't focus on other things. Dipper eyed his reflection in the side window of his car, and imagined himself, pale and bloody behind the wheel.

Bill had apparently broken free of his boasting bubble, and caught the direction of Dipper's gaze. "Oh, let's go for a ride! You're less likely to crash into a tree on purpose with me in the car. Also we won't have to walk ten miles, and then carry stuff back for another ten miles."

Bill's arguement was certainly persuasive. "I.. alright. But please don't distract me. If I can't make us crash on purpose, you can't make us crash accidentally." Dipper fished around in his pocket for his car keys, unsure of why they were there in the first place. Don't question it. He made a noise of surprise when Bill suddenly grasped his other hand, squeezing tight.

"It's a deal, Pine Tree!" Bill's grin just about cut his face in half, and Dipper felt a fear that seemed as if it had been resurrected from a lifetime ago. He expected one bulging eye, glowing yellow bricks, and a hand wreathed in cold flames. Instead eight fingers squeezed his own until his hand started tingling, and shook up and down one time.

He snatched his hand back as quickly as he was able, trying to shake the life back into it. "Let's just go." He unlocked the driver's side door and slid into the seat, and felt like smacking himself for being surprised when Bill crawled in over top of him. He did nothing to stop it, because there was no point. He merely sat and waited for Bill to stop digging bony joints into his thighs, and curl up on the passenger seat.

"This is a lot smaller than it looks from outside. Say, what do all these buttons do?" Bill peered at the center console with unconcealed interest, preparing to start pressing everything at once.

"Those control functions of the car. Please don't press them; it might distract me and cause us to crash." He vaguely remembered a time when saying something like that would have felt unnecessarily morbid. "If you have to play with something, then use this." Dipper tapped the dial that changed the radio stations, and specifically avoided mentioning the one that controlled volume. "It controls what music plays from the radio."

"I know what a radio is, Pine Tree," Bill deadpanned, despite the clear interest on his face. His understanding of facial cues seemed to be virtually nonexistent. Apparently it was much easier to fool people when you didn't have any actual body language or face to speak of.

Dipper shook the thought from his head in favor of keying the ignition, and listening to the car rumble to life. He fastened his seatbelt, and leaned over to do the same to the demon in lieu of explaining the purpose of it. Luckily, he seemed much more interested in the radio, which had come to life with the rest of the car.

Dipper breathed a sigh of relief, backing slowly out of his driveway and letting slightly rusty muscle memory take over. It was easier if he didn't think too hard about what he was doing.

Everything was easier when he just didn't think. 


	10. Theft

Dipper's hands were numb. He'd only been driving for a few minutes, but the force with which he gripped the steering wheel had left everything from the wrist up without sensation, save for a faint tingling. Something on the radio was howling horrid notes, but Dipper didn't look over to see what Bill was doing. Focus on the road. Don't think. Focus on the road. He'd forgotten how quickly cars moved. Everything approached so much faster than he was ready for, and he flinched unconsciously when passing pedestrians, or anything that wasn't a stop sign or traffic light. Other cars made him even more nervous; the unpredictability of other people had always discomfited him, but Bill's words from the Mindscape buzzed in his head like feasting locusts. Things could happen without good reason. One of the other drivers could suddenly decided to crash into him without warning, and he'd taste true death. Don't think. Focus on the road.

Easier said than done. Bill had apparently found the volume knob, and the car was practically vibrating from the wall of sound that emerged from the speakers. It didn't help that he frequently switched stations, producing a moment of distorted static each time. Dipper wasn't sure how he was still breathing at this point. After so many weeks of sensory deprivation, all of this stimulation was making his head pound and his eyes water. It was too bright outside. The stormy clouds from the other day had cleared out for the sun to paint their little corner of earth with its warming glow. The sunlight feeding in through the windshield made Bill's hair glow like a halo. Dipper shook himself, fear clenching his chest as he turned his attention back to the road. Still in his lane. Not moments from crashing into anything. He was okay, for now.

"Boy, you sure are quiet over there!" Bill shouted over the booming music, which was unnecessary considering how piercing his normal speaking tone was. He frowned when Dipper didn't even glance at him, merely clutching at the wheel like it was a lifeline. "C'mon, Pine Tree, when's the last time we had a little pow-wow?" Bill gestured with his hands, flapping them back and forth between himself and Dipper. He was positive that this was a thing humans did.

"We had one earlier today," Dipper said just loud enough to be heard over the music. "It was when you dragged me into the Mindscape and punched a hole through my torso, remember?" It's not like Dipper would ever forget that for the rest of his sure-to-be-ended-soon life.

"That doesn't count," Bill dismissed, turning down the volume on the radio so he didn't need to shout. Unfortunately, he continued doing so anyway. "What's the matter, Pine Tree? Can't talk about your feelings with your old pal Bill?" Dipper caught his grin in the reflection of the windshield.

"...Let's just get groceries, please." Dipper wanted to close his eyes and imagine the world away, but at the moment he hardly dared to blink. Instead of being soothed by darkness, he gazed upon the world through saline watercolors.

The rest of the ride involved little to no interaction between the demon and his human, much to Bill's displeasure. He busied himself with playing with the radio, trying to gauge how long he could keep it on garbled static before Dipper would notice the purpose behind his actions. The kid's already shaky breathing hitched each time it happened, and if Bill wasn't paying such close attention he would have missed it. Exploiting the fear of himself was hilarious and deeply satisfying, but exploiting the fear of something else was interesting as well. He'd have to look into that later, because it appeared they'd arrived at their destination. A sea of cars surrounded them, little white lines designating the spots that the humans could leave their cars. So disgustingly organized.

"Bill? We're going." Dipper had already left the car, and had begun circling around before he noticed that Bill was still inside. His nerves had settled a bit upon being able to rely on his own two feet for locomotion, but seeing the intense look on the demon's face made him jittery all over again. Dipper cautiously approached, and tapped his knuckles against the passenger side window. "Bill? We need to go inside." He flinched back a step as that gaze turned on him, and it was the first time that Bill had ever looked at him in a manner that reflected real, sincere loathing. But it quickly faded, and a toothy grin shined in its place.

"Sure thing, Pine Tree!" Bill swung his door open, slithering out of the vehicle and dusting himself off. He straightened his bowtie, and glanced up at the store they'd be going into. 'EZ-MART', apparently. Human naming conventions sure didn't disappoint. He realized suddenly that Pine Tree hadn't made another deal for this particular venture into the outside world, but decided to cut the kid some slack. After all, it... Bill paused in the middle of loping ahead of Pine Tree, a frown forming on his face before he shook it away. The 'why' didn't matter, because Bill did whatever he wanted and he didn't need a reason for it. He met Dipper's curious glance and huffed, stomping off through the entrance of the grocery store.

Dipper stared after the visibly agitated demon, unsure of what had just happened. He hurried to catch up when he realized Bill was perfectly content with leaving him behind, and tried to think on the fly. Bill had been.. oddly sedate, in the car. He'd previously been too shaken by thoughts of mortality and his previous experiences with a broken radio, but now he thought critically about it. Bill was almost always doing something, and that usually involved talking. But other than that first attempt at conversation, he'd been completely absorbed in the radio. Had Bill been.. respecting his boundaries? Dipper almost laughed at the thought. As if the demon even knew what boundaries were. There had to have been something on Bill's mind; something more pressing than tormenting Dipper. He shuddered to think of what it might be. The only thing he could do to stop the monster made flesh was distract him; if the demon lost interest... Don't think. Appease Bill. Don't let anyone else get hurt.

They both made slightly awkward eye contact, though one hundred percent of that awkwardness was on Dipper's end. He met that golden gaze for only a few moments before having to look away. He cleared his throat unnecessarily, and moved to acquire a shopping cart. The wheels were uneven and one of them squealed in protest every time he move it, but he didn't bother getting a new one. There was no point. "Okay, we need to get.." Dipper reached into his back pocket, and found nothing but some lint. He hadn't made a list. Unsure of whether to burst into laughter or tears, Dipper swallowed whatever was lodged in his throat and grasped the handle of the cart. "Never mind. We'll just grab things as we go."

"Ohh, what's this? The master of over-preparedness, caught without a shopping list? Apparently I hadn't botched the armageddon after all." Bill laughed obnoxiously, and earned them a few looks from other shoppers. Dipper might have felt embarrassed at some point in his life, but now he only felt disinterested. What did it matter what people thought, as long as they were still alive?

"I didn't have time, considering I was being dragged out the front door." Dipper knew that was an excuse. He could have made a list when his refrigerator had first gone empty. It was a struggle to remember when exactly that was. Not important anymore. "We'll just... grab whatever feels right."

"Choosing on a whim, eh? I like it!" Bill slunk over to him, splaying his arachnoid fingers between Dipper's shoulder blades and leaning down to murmur in his ear. "Hey, who knows; maybe acting on your impulses would have helped you save your sister." Bill barked out a laugh, and was even more amused to see that Pine Tree was too stunned to actually flinch. "Anyway, we've got some shopping to do! Gotta meet the mindless consumer quota to support the slowly immolating capitalist worldview that keeps your puny planet from crumbling into chaos, am I right?" He shoved Dipper forward, and the kid stumbled a few steps with the cart screeching in front of him.

Dipper couldn't form words. It felt as if Bill had taken his wilted heart and crushed it under his heel. The demon was right. If Dipper had gone with his gut instinct, if he'd told Mabel what was happening sooner instead of hiding away like the pathetic coward he was-

"Don't get started with the waterworks, I'm hydrophobic." Bill clumsily smeared a tear off Dipper's cheek, grinning wildly at him. "Gotta live with your mistakes one way or another, Pine Tree. And living involves food, which we need."

"Maybe that's not what I want," Dipper murmured, feet dragging across the ground as he pushed the cart forward. He forced back the burn behind his eyes, focusing on the hard plastic digging into his palms.

"This winding road of twists and turns, leads to the land where shadows grow. And though it bleeds the heart still yearns, for the thaw of winter snow." Bill recited the short poem wih an unusually somber tone, voice lowered to tolerable levels and expression schooled into something serious.

"..What's that supposed to mean?" Interpreting poetry had never been Dipper's forte. Prose was always a more comfortable territory to tread in.

"It means life sucks, even when you want it not to." Dipper recieved another push, and finally got the message to start moving forward. His head swam with currents of thoughts, and his chest buzzed with sparking emotion. "So, chin up. It's not like anything you did could have saved her anyway." Bill took point, grasping the cart by the front and giving it a good yank whenever Dipper slowed. The demon was pleased when his Pine Tree finally got the memo, and kept up a steady pace.

Dipper plodded uselessly through the aisles, wracking his brain for the brands he preferred to desperately attempt to distract himself. At least Bill came in handy, being able to reach the tallest shelves that eluded Dipper's grasp. Eventually he started grabbing things without even being asked, which Dipper would have found very helpful if not for what he was grabbing.

Dipper stared at the jar of pickled pig's feet in the demon's hands, as well as the wide grin on his face. "No, absolutely not, those are disgusting. We're here to buy things we need, not things that will never be eaten."

"Not like you really eat anyway, Pine Tree. You've been looking pretty twiggy!" Bill jabbed a finger into his ribs and he hissed in discomfort, flinching away. "See? I could practically poke right through you."

Dipper certainly did not need a reminder of when the demon had literally gone through him. "That's the whole point of buying food; so I can eat more. And for you, of course," he amended hastily. Don't make him feel like he isn't important. Appease Bill. Don't let him hurt anyone else.

"Fiiiine. Swine are more trouble than they're worth, anyway." Before Dipper could question what that meant, Bill had chucked the jar up and over the shelf in front of them, beyond which it shattered on the linoleum tile.

Dipper gaped, open mouthed. "What is _wrong_ with yo-" he was cut off by a squeak as Bill lifted him bodily and stuffed him in the cart along with their groceries. Cans of soup dug into the base of his spine, and his limbs hung awkwardly over the edges.

"No time for questions, Pine Tree; we gotta move!" Bill raced them down the aisle, deaf to Dipper's increasingly panicked protests, He took a sharp turn and nearly ran into another shopper, who just managed to start yelling before Bill was off down another aisle. "Wow, this is a lot more invigorating than I thought it'd be!"

"Bill are you _insane_ you need to stop the cart we're going to run into some-" Dipper's head banged against the back of the shopping basket as Bill came to an abrupt stop, and he felt tapered steel edges scrape across the back of his head. He choked down a cry, and could already feel an ooze of warmth following the bright flare of pain. "Bill, what were you _thinki_ -" He clammed up the moment he saw Bill's gaze; heavy, directed, and blazing with golden fire.

"Whoops. Looks like you got a little bump on the noggin, Pine Tree! Not like there's much brain in there to rattle, at least." Bill laughed, but there was an edge of unease to it. He glanced down, and saw red painted across the slightly jutting metal wires. "Oh. That... that's, uh. Can't have you bleeding out on me, now can I?"

"I'm not bleeding out, Bill. Head injuries always bleed really heavily, but it's not anything serious-" Dipper glared as a hand was slapped over his mouth.

"Quiet, Pine Tree! I can hear your lifeblood singing to me. It's saying to not listen to you because you're vastly under-qualified to tell me about human injuries. I practically invented violence, so I think I know what I'm talking about." Bill began grabbing armfuls of various food related paraphernalia and dumping them on top of Dipper, who tried to bat them away. "Quit squirming, I'm trying to help you!"

"You're not helping by pelting me with condiments!" Dipper yelped and crossed his arms to protect from a tub of honey mustard.

"I have to keep you well fed if you're ever to recover!" Bill's tone of voice suggested dramatic concern, but the smile on his face promised absolute torment. "There, that should be enough." He beamed down at the cart's occupant, and without warning started rocketing across the store again.  
Dipper was vaguely curious as to how Bill's strangely jointed legs provided so much propulsion. He had little time to ponder this however, because they were passing through the sliding doors and rattling through the parking lot. "Bill, we have to _pay_ for this stuff!"

"I'm sure they won't miss a few groceries," Bill replied flippantly. He fished out Dipper's keys (slimy freak must have slipped it from his pocket when he wasn't looking) and opened the trunk. He lifted Dipper from the cart by the arm, and then stuffed the entire shopping cart into the trunk. "Well, looks like we're good to go!" Bill tossed the keys at Dipper, who fumbled to catch them. He could hear faint shouting coming from the direction of the store. "Drive, Pine Tree, drive!"

Dipper shot a frantic glance back at the direction of the store, before turning to the encouraging, monstrous grin that the demon was sporting. He slid over the hood on his way to the driver's seat, and felt something like a thrill for the first time in... He made to slam the door, until he saw Bill scale his way over the car like a spider and crawl, upside down, through his open door. Deciding to put the disturbing sight out of his mind, he keyed the ignition and resisted the urge to peel out of the parking lot, deciding it'd be much smarter to look like just another shopper leaving the car park.

A tense silence encapsulated the interior of Dipper's vehicle as they drove away, Bill constantly peering into the rear view mirror to see if they were being pursued. When it became clear that they had gotten away, Dipper's chest deflated with a rush of relieved air, and Bill howled with laughter. "Pine Tree, Pine Tree- we just robbed that supermarket!" His laughter redoubled, filling the car to the brim.

Dipper thought of a time when he would have been horrified at the thought of stealing from a supermarket for no good reason. When he would have tried his best to return everything. A time when he cared.

Dipper Pines laughed until he cried. Tears streamed down his face, and his chest heaved with sobs, and he was still laughing.


	11. Tender

Dipper felt a lightness in his chest. A soaring, hollow feeling that marked the previous site of something precious. He had laughed, truly and sincerely, for the first time in months, and it had released something heavy and warm from within him. It didn't feel like the destruction of his impurity; a slight, tugging twinge follow by a sudden burst of mindless pleasure. It was something different. It was a whisper of loss, the impression of missing something vital, followed by a frigid, spreading numbness. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

They arrived home without another word, Bill's cackles providing a piercing backdrop to the sound of tires on asphalt. The demon's laughter ceased as they entered the house, and he had to stare at the back of Dipper's blood matted head. "So, Pine Tree. You ready to trust your safety and health to good old doctor Bill? As a theoretical surgeon, I can promise to assume that the procedure will be completely painless."

"Considering our previous encounters, I really don't trust you anywhere near my head." Dipper pressed at the wound, wincing at how tender it was. "I just need to clean it out and stop the bleeding, and I'll be fine."

"That really hurts, Pine Tree. Probably not as much as a bleeding head wound, granted, but it hurts!" Bill didn't look particularly hurt; indeed, he looked delighted at the prospect of getting to handle Dipper's bloody head. "Why don't you just lie down and relax, and I'll sew that up with some twine. You humans still use that for surgery, right?"

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache building up alongside the already present ache. "If you could bring in the groceries for me, instead of tearing my scalp off, I'd be really grateful. Just put everything cold in the fridge, and the rest can go on the counter."

"Gratitude, you say? That's what humans feel when they allow other people to demand favors of them, right?" Bill grinned gleefully, attempting to steeple his fingers together. Some of them couldn't reach all the way, and other ones bent awkwardly.

"Fine, yes, I'll owe you a favor," Dipper agreed without really thinking about it. "But it can't involve hurting, killing, or having anything to do with anyone other than us." 'Us'. What an odd feeling, referring to himself and Bill as any kind of unit.

"Such a stickler," the demon sneered, before begrudgingly acquiescing. "Alright, it won't involve any of those things. Instead, I'll.... ask you to let me take care of your head wound." Bill's face stretched in a sickeningly smug smile, and Dipper nearly recoiled at the sight.

"No surgery," Dipper stated firmly, feeling his control of the situation slipping through his fingers. "You can wash it and stop the bleeding, but that's all." Just the thought of Bill's grotesque hands wrapped around gleaming surgical tools made him shudder. He'd be in more pieces than he could count. Likely because he'd be deceased, but still.

"Perfect. I'll handle the worthless human food," Dipper opened his mouth to remind Bill that he was the one who wanted to go grocery shopping in the _first_ place- "and you can head upstairs and get in the tub. Soak like the fleshy little hot water bottle you are." Before Dipper could protest, the demon shot him a jaunty little wave and lurched out the front door.

Dipper huffed out a breath, unsure if he should muster up the energy to be properly annoyed at the demon or not. At least he wasn't causing him bodily harm... yet, at least. Dipper really didn't trust those mangled fingers to treat his wound with any sort of care. But... at least he was getting a bath? He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken one, but it had surely been years ago. The last time he'd even been in the tub was... a flare of nausea lit up in his gut, and he shook the thought away. All he needed to think about was warm water that he could submerge himself in. Maybe it'd even help him relax.

Dipper's lips twisted bitterly at the thought, and he made his way upstairs. The bathroom was devoid of towels (thanks Bill), but at least the puddle on the ground had dried up. Dipper tested the bath mat, and it squished under his toe. Maybe he could just... shove it in the dryer. And forget about it forever. But he still needed towels, and- Dipper groaned, and reluctantly resolved to begin doing laundry. Maybe tomorrow. He shot a glance at the bathroom door, and wondered whether potentially having to strip down in front of Bill, or already being naked when he came up would be more embarrassing. Either way, it'd probably be awful.

The sound of running water was apparent from downstairs, and Bill felt unusually pleased that Pine Tree had followed his instructions. The demon had almost expected that he'd have to shove the kid in the tub himself. Bill carted in the shopping basket full of groceries, reflecting on how convenient it was to not have to carry everything in. He'd have to steal more shopping carts in the future. Bill giggled at the thought of carrying them inside of other shopping carts, and the look on Pine Tree's face when Bill brought them in. This was an idea worth saving. But for now, he had doctory duties to attend to. Bill hummed a tune as he loped towards the stairs, taking off the eyepatch that had started irritating his skin. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd taken a proper hiatus from his work. Likely because it had taken him all those trillion years to even make it to this point, and then everything had gone up in smoke. But, he had a physical form now, and he could torment his favorite little human until the end of his life, and Bill was having a blast.

"Pine Treeeee!" He called, kicking in the bathroom door. He froze at the same moment the human did, two eyes meeting one. Dipper's head was twisted around to look over his shoulder, unkempt hair lying in tangles around his face and red rimmed eyes blown wide with shock. "..Oh dear. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me, mister Pine Tree." He admired the bony, pallid form that was just one step into the tub of hot water for as long as-

"Bill don't you know how to knock oh my god-" Dipper stumbled the rest of the way into the tub, catching himself on the rim before he could faceplant against the bottom and indavertently end up drowning himself. If he was going to drown, it'd be on his own terms. And it was probably going to be in the next few minutes, so that he could extinguish the fires of mortification that burned in his chest. He wasn't even sure why; Bill had seen him naked before. It wasn't like anything had changed. Besides, he was an otherworldly polygonal dream demon who thought humans were worthless flesh bags, so why did Dipper even care?

"Pretty sure you're not supposed to drink the bathwater, Pine Tree." Bill's amusement was palpable, almost more-so than it would have been were he laughing at Dipper's expense. "Now why don't you stop with your hydro-asphyxiation nonsense so I can stop your head from bleeding all over the place?" Bill patted the edge of the tub insistently, staring directly down at the still exposed Dipper.

"I told you I'm not going to bleed out, it's just- ugh, never mind. Just... don't rip my head open, or whatever." Dipper snagged the waterproof neckrest that was wedged over in the corner. It was a gift from... He laid it out over the rim of the tub, and rested his chin onto it. "Wash your hands before you touch it. I don't need an infection."

"What do you think I was doing while I was downstairs, putting away groceries?" Bill paused. "I mean I WAS, but I also washed my hands." He wiggled them in front of Dipper's face, as if it were possible to see their immaculate cleanliness. "And before you ask, you heartless skeptic, I DID remember to bring the medical stuff." Bill also wiggled the medkit in front of Dipper's face, in a much more plausible attempt to prove his remembrance of it. "Now just relax while I save your life, you ungrateful worm."

Dipper couldn't find the motivation to roll his eyes. He simply attempted to angle his head to give Bill better access to the wound. He winced at the first press of a water soaked rag against the abrasion, and tried to put the pain out of his mind.

Bill frowned down at the sheer volume of dried blood that was clinging to the strands of his Pine Tree's hair. It was an unappetizing shade of browning carmine, and he decided to leave it for later. He tended to Pine Tree's wound with one hand, slowing at each tense of muscle or hitch of breath. Once he had sufficiently scrubbed out the wound, he grabbed up a wad of gauze and held it against the slowly oozing scrape, wondering idly how much blood Pine Tree had lost since acquiring the abrasion. Probably not enough to worry about, he concluded. Bill's free hand roamed idly over Pine Tree's face, and he snickered at the way Dipper's nose scrunched in annoyance. "Relaaax, you're in perfectly capable hands."

Dipper mumbled something that might have been snarky, were it coherent. As it was, he was much too busy focusing on the warm water that gently lapped at his lower body, and the way Bill's fingers had begun carding through his hair. Despite their deformity, his fingers were surprisingly dextrous, and began carefully working out the countless knots and tangles Dipper had accumulated. He found himself oddly soothed by the demon, who was even more peculiarly silent.

Dipper closed his eyes, and dreamed the world away. 


	12. Three Sides

Dipper's dream was surprisingly coherent, if a bit bleak. He floated idly in a dark void, populated only by distant swirls of twinkling light. He wasn't cold, but he could feel that he was exposed to the elements. Despite that, he didn't feel particularly vulnerable. Thoughts flitted like aimless hummingbirds, buzzing by before fading away. He traced the intricate patterns that painted his surroundings, and felt an unnatural calm.

And then there were fingers. Crawling over his skin, pinching and tugging and scratching at everything they could reach. Dipper opened his eyes, even though he couldn't recall shutting them. Cipher grinned back at him through gnarled teeth, eyes gouged out to resemble empty pits. His skin was smeared with a dark, inky fluid, and it dripped from the ends of his hair. He opened his mouth and screeched, howled, bellowed with laughter. It was like a record pin scratching the grooves of Dipper's brain. Suddenly Cipher's silhouette brightened, portraying him in stark relief from the background. He was twisted like a centipede, dozens of insectean legs skittering aimlessly. A quartet of arms sprouted from his back, the skin still raw and peeling. Every angle was cast in sharp relief, as if he were made of nothing but straight lines and right angles. Six hands with more fingers than he could count pulled at his flesh, as if aiming to rip it away like plastic wrap.

Dipper brushed charcoal strands away from Cipher's forehead, and a one eyed triangle winked back at him. He stared, voiceless, as the All Seeing Eye seared away everything he was, unraveled his layers until the skeletal frame of Landrin "Dipper" Pines was revealed. Nothing was unseen. Nobody could hide. ALWAYS WATCHING.

Gentle hands tugged at his arms, turning him through the weightless void. He rotated slowly, inerta spinning him further and further until-

Bill stared back at him. His teeth gleamed like mother of pearl, pink lips pulled into a grin. His skin, healthy and dark, was covered in a light dusting of blond hairs. Five fingered hands grasped at Dipper's face, and a warm thumb pulled gently at his bottom lip. A halo of gold was weaved around his head, and radiated the softest light Dipper had ever seen. Two eyes stared back at him, pupils whole and ringed with glaring yellow. Dipper felt completely unseen. Bill murmured something that Dipper couldn't quite make out, but knew instinctively. Pine Tree.

He released Dipper's face, and drifted in the other direction, and Cipher was there to greet him. They met in a curiously warm embrace, and Bill was smeared with oily ink. Cipher's writhing digits pulled at pink lips, like little maggots they squirmed inside a pliant mouth. Bill swallowed Cipher like a serpent would a mouse, but the process looked as natural as breathing. Dripping flesh and charcoal hair and chitin plates disappeared without a whisper.

Bill Cipher swam through the void towards him, and grinned with a mouthful of surgical needles. His sickly, green tinged skin was pulled taut over an abnormal skeletal structure, and shimmering hair flowed through cosmic currents. One eye twitched back and forth as it scanned his face, but Dipper didn't feel over exposed. He tentatively extended a hand, and eight fingers wrapped around it. A second set brushed through his hair, and the touch was bizarrely soothing. Dipper opened his mouth, and had his own palm pressed against it. Bill Cipher pressed their faces together, until Dipper could see nothing but a single, unblinking eye and a sphere of milky white. "Time to wake up, Pine Tree."

Bill watched intently as Pine Tree's eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing against his cheeks. Murky brown stared straight up at him, pupils swimming with drowsy confusion. Bill felt something lurch in his torso, and attributed it to hunger. "Well well, look who finally decided to wake up!" He consciously made an effort to lower his voice, without really knowing why. Pine Tree would probably be easier to communicate with when his ears weren't ringing, Bill rationalized. "I soaked up all your life blood, and I don't think it'll be leaking out of you again anytime soon. Also I washed your hair, because it looked like a tumbleweed that mauled a small child with various serrated instruments. Although I have to say, the whole 'covered in blood' thing is a good look for you." The demon was pretty sure he meant that as a mocking insult.

Dipper allowed the demon's voice to wash over him in waves, swishing his feet through lukewarm bath water. He must've been asleep for a while. Dipper was unsure if he should be disgusted with his own subconscious for conjuring up such a trite cliche of a dream, or relieved that it hadn't been a nightmarish slideshow of his experiences with Bright Eyes. Dipper hadn't done much study into the nature of dreams, and it was entirely owed to the dream demon that blinked innocently at his unfocused gaze. But even without in-depth knowledge, Dipper could decipher a dream as straightforward as that one. Loneliness. Vulnerability. Insecurity. Duality. Dipper had purposefully shut the world away, so loneliness was easily understood. Vulnerability stemmed from his own helplessness, and inability to control the happenings of his life. Standard stuff. Insecurity was a similar branch, owing to his doubts and fears combining into an inability to function properly. Finally, he'd seen more than one side of the notoriously triangular Bill Cipher. He was unsure of how to rationalize the eldritch evil from beyond the realm of reality being the same entity as the romanticized caricature of soft lips and sincere smiles, and how they combined to form the cruel, playful, violent, tender monstrosity that had invaded his home and given him a new, grim purpose in life.

"Pine Tree? You awake in there? I didn't botch things THAT badly, did I?" Bill rapped several knuckles against Pine Tree's forehead, and received a startled flinch and a bout of rapid blinks. "Oh, good, I didn't kill you. What a shame that would have been. Without you, who would I have around to make fun of all day?" Bill pinched Pine Tree's face with an entire hand, struggling to find room for all his fingers.

"Oh, joy," Dipper droned, trying to pry away Bill's hand. "What a privilege it is to have my face ripped off." He eventually managed to dislodge the offending digits, rubbing at his sore cheek. At least his head didn't hurt anymore. "..Thanks for not ripping my scalp off, too," he muttered, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. He could think of a million reasons for why he shouldn't be thanking Bill Cipher, _ever_ , but that was the issue. There was no point in thinking, anymore. There was nothing to be done. He'd just distract the demon to prolong the lives of others, until his entertainment value inevitably expired. At least Bill still seemed interested, so far.

"Of course! I couldn't possibly live with myself if I damaged that little noggin of yours! There's so much in there to play with, after all." Bill patted Pine Tree on the head like a beloved pet, and turned to a retrieve a slightly musty towel from the counter. "Alright, out you go. Can't have you getting all weird and wrinkly on me, after all; who KNOWS what sort of health complications could arise!"

"Yeah, alright." Dipper didn't even think to put up any sort of protest; why would he? Getting out of the tub wasn't some issue to be fought. It was just the idea of submitting to anything Bill suggested that irked him, he supposed. Dipper turned to drain the bath water, keeping himself as far out of Bill's field of view as was possible, despite how little difference that'd make.

"Too slow!" Dipper yelped as a pair of hands grasped at his ankles, and instinctively grabbed for the faucet before he was yanked across the tub. He missed by a millimeter, and ended up scrabbling at the textured floor of the tub. Unfortunately it provided no usable handholds, and he was soon lifted straight into the air. Blood immediately rushed to his head, and he was fairly sure that was something they had _just_ prevented.

"Oh my god Bill I swear I'll kick you in the teeth let me go _now_ -" Dipper squeaked in a decidedly masculine manner as he was deposited roughly on the rug in front of the sink.

"I wouldn't recommend it, Pine Tree. After all, I'd have to waste even more of my precious time applying my expert medical ministrations to your delicate little carcass." Bill flashed his sawtooth grin pointedly, and also emphatically.

"Yeah, I'll pass on that." Dipper tentatively inspected his nose, which had taken the brunt of the fall. No blood, cartilage intact. He swayed to his feet, and came eye to eye with Bill, who was hunched ominously over him. "Could you... not stand so close?"

Bill pressed a hand over where Dipper assumed his heart must have been, and sniffed melodramatically. He made no indication that he was planning to exit Dipper's bubble of personal space. "Oh Pine Tree, your hatred of me cuts deeper than you can imagine!"

"I don't hate you." Silence consumed them like a cement vortex, weighing them down with an unimaginable heaviness. Dipper felt his heart thudding a frantic staccato of irregular beats, and was sure all the air in his lungs had been sucked away by the vacuum that resided in Bill's searching pupil. It cut right through him, but left everything in one piece. Dipper decided to spend what was surely the final, precious moments of his life reflecting on the most idiotic thing to ever pass his lips. When he thought about it, he had every reason in the world to hate Bill Cipher. The dream demon had invaded his uncle's mind, had tricked him out of his own body, and had attempted to bring about the utter annihilation of the entire dimension. Not to mention... recent events. No. The death of his sister, at this monster's twisted hands. But... hating him wouldn't do anything. It wouldn't undo anything that had been done. It wouldn't bring back Mabel. It would just take uselessly expended energy, and magnify the already all-consuming misery that Dipper felt. Hating him was useless.

"..I don't hate you either, Pine Tree. Despite how much of a pain you've been over the years." Misshapen hands grasped at a face frozen in shock, which was already slackening into sedate numbness. "But I'm glad to hear you say that. It's so much easier when you just give up, right? And having me by your side is so much better than being all alone, isn't it? After all... it's like the saying goes." Bill's smile tore Dipper to pieces.

"Misery loves company." 


	13. Beholder

Dipper stood, deathly still and unusually pliant, as a pair of hands pulled gently at the various features on his face. He thought it must have been minutes since his unintentional declaration, and Bill had yet to release his grip. The demon was looking him over with intense scrutiny, but didn't seem to search for anything in particular. His fingertips danced in slow motion over the curve of Dipper's nostrils, or the corners of his lips. They pressed down to feel the shape of his teeth through the thin tissue of his cheeks, and dragged gently on the purple discolorations that lurked beneath Dipper's half-lidded eyes. He seemed unduly fascinated with something as mundane as a human face, and Dipper wasn't sure why. It was an unquestionable certainty that Bill had seen more faces than Dipper would in his entire lifetime, and had likely possessed several of his own before this one. Only...

Maybe it was just him. Ever since the demon had first infected his putrid existence through physical means, he'd been touching Dipper's face. Tracing and mapping and pressing and caressing; even when they had been... at odds, Dipper labeled uncertainly. It was difficult to quantify anything about their relationship, no matter what stage it had been at. Every other time, Dipper had been much too focused on his own terror, or grief, to really register what the demon was doing. At best, he thought it a novelty that Bill would soon tire of. But apparently that wasn't the case.

Dipper had a sudden realization. Bill had always referred to him as his 'favorite human'. Which was... odd, considering how little they had truly interacted before now. He'd originally taken it as a form of derision, just as jeering as the nickname the demon had assigned him. Except even that felt like a term of endearment, now. Something familiar that he could cling to, even as his own name started to slip away from him. There were worse nicknames in the world, after all. He was lucky that Bill hadn't chosen something truly demeaning, or a grotesque vulgarity.

But being his 'favorite human'... that was a little more confusing. Bill had spent years in the presence of Ford, tricking him and 'befriending' him and using him to further his own goals. Wouldn't that make him Bill's favorite? He was certainly a more reasonable candidate, in any case. The only thing Dipper had done was get lucky in outsmarting the demon a few times, and inadvertently prevented the apocalypse. For now, at least. Maybe that had earned Bill's begrudging admiration? It was hard to say. But now... he certainly felt like a favorite human. To his utter revulsion, the thought caused something unpleasantly pleasant to wriggle in his guts. At least it was better than the demon wishing harm upon him, he reflected with a sliver of optimism.

"Pine Tree?" Bill's grin widened as Dipper blinked out of whatever stupor he'd been mired in, staring at him with those big, confused doe eyes. He pinched the rosy cheeks in front of him, and earned a delectable yipe. "You looked pretty deep inside your own head, kiddo."

"Y...yeah, I uhm." Dipper awkwardly cleared his throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in Bill's presence. And not just because he was an abominable murdering demon wearing a mutant human flesh puppet. "I think I'm losing circulation in my face," he dredged up, trying to find any excuse to regain a comfortable distance.

"I'm not sure it works that way," Bill mused, but released his hold regardless. Dipper breathed a sigh of relief, and then sucked it back in as the demon threw a towel over his head and began drying his damp hair. "We're going out somewhere nice, tonight." It was said less like a statement and more like an indomitable truth.

Dipper thought he might say something about how Bill was going to bleed his bank account dry at this rate, but thought better of it. His remaining lifespan fluctuated wildly with each passing moment, but he didn't imagine it could be that much longer. Besides, he could always start selling his gold reserves. "..Okay. Is there anywhere specific that we're going?" Dipper could only think of a handful of higher end eateries in their general vicinity, and most had a fairly strict dress code. At least Bill would be in his element.

"I'll let you decide that one, Pine Tree!" Bill chirped, sounding as if he were granting a magnitudinous privilege. "Although I suggest you pick somewhere that it would be appropriate for me to wear my new suit." His tone suggested that he'd be wearing that suit to a fast food joint, if he had to.

"I can do that." He'd have to look up directions online, considering how long it had been since he'd eaten at the restaurant he had in mind. He'd set up reservations for Mabel's birthday one year with Stan and Ford, and vaguely remembered enjoying the food. He ignored the clench of grief in his chest, and focused on how dangerously low Bill's hands were dipping as the demon dried him off. "You can-I'll do that myself," he sputtered, a flush forming on his face.

Bill stared intently at Pine Tree's red face, before glancing down at the jutting hipbones his hands had rested on. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the deepening redness on Pine Tree's cheeks, before deciding to let him off the hook. This time. Exploration could wait until after dinner, the demon resolved. "If you say so. Make sure you change into something nice, Pine Tree!" Bill savored the image of his human standing there, towel held limply in front of him and face burning with mortification, and laughed on his way downstairs.

Dipper sighed out a lungful of air once he was left by his lonesome, setting the towel aside to press his hands against his face and groan into them. Human contact had become a rarity in his life. It was only a natural reaction. It had nothing to do with the individual, and everything to do with chemicals releasing in his brain as a result of stimuli. He waited as long as he dared, roughly drying off his lower half and scurrying into his room with the towel wrapped around his waist. Once he was free of (or could at least delay with a locked door) Bill's scrutiny, he tossed the towel aside and opened his closet for what felt like the first time ever. Most of the sparse sets of clothing inside had only been worn once or twice, and were all fairly similar. Even so, he spent a fair few minutes deciding between them, before taking down a pair of hangers and relieving them of their contents. He felt rich fabric between his fingertips, and idly wondered how terrible tonight was going to be.

Bill paced impatiently around the living room, glancing down at the watch he didn't have that wasn't on his wrist, but the repetitive motion made him feel better so he continued doing so. He was agitated, and unsure of why. This had the adverse effect of increasing his agitation, which lead to his pacing in an attempt to burn it out. He had no reason to be agitated; everything was working out in his favor. Pine Tree was compliant, and damaged, but had enough embers left in his spirit to keep Bill from growing bored. Pine Tree admitted that he didn't hate him, and that was something that should have had Bill over the moon and back. He was even going to see his human all gussied up in person, for the first time ever. But still there was a tingling in his chest that wouldn't go away. It didn't quite register as annoyance, but he wasn't sure how else to label it. He idly entertained the thought of tearing into himself and ripping out whatever little creature was wriggling about, and sighed dreamily at the thought that his Pine Tree had done the same. Maybe he could get a repeat performance, someday. Bill shivered in delight, and turned to go up and fetch Pine Tree so that their outing could begin-

And stopped short. Standing at the base of the stairs was the corpse of an angel. A forest deity, stripped of its wings and its roots. Pine Tree glanced at him with sunken eyes, before his gaze fell self-consciously to the floor. Unkempt brown tresses had been mostly tamed through the combined efforts of Bill's fingers and a fine toothed comb. They fell in barely controlled curls around Pine Tree's shoulders, bangs just barely managing to hide the birthmark on his forehead, and Bill wanted to yank on every last strand. His Pine Tree was wearing something leagues above his normal t-shirts and sweatpants; a silken, collared charcoal button up that hung off him like a sheet, exposing snatches of prominent collarbone. The sleeves were rumpled and a button was missing on the bottom, and Pine Tree had apparently had trouble with buttoning his cuffs. The ends of the shirt were tucked beneath the waistband of creased black trousers that were barely held up with a tightly cinched belt. Scuffed loafers shuffled uncertainly against hardwood. And Pine Tree's face... it was pallid, all hints of rosiness from his bath drained away by nerves. His lip was being chewed on, and the few bristles he'd missed while shaving clung to his jaw. He looked like he was ready to be presented at a wake. Bill was enraptured.

Dipper endured the demon's long, intense scrutiny, and felt dread bubbling up inside him. He told himself over and over that he didn't care, Bill's opinion didn't matter, he didn't _care_ \- But he did. He cared more than he should have about whether the sharply dressed abomination (smooth yellow curves and sleek black lines and a grin that could saw someone in half) thought he looked nice or not. "I knew it would look awful. I- let me go change into something else-"

"You are enchanting, dear Pine Tree." Bill closed the distance in a few lurching strides, grabbing at a twitchy, colorless face and tilting it up to look at him. "I wouldn't want to see you in anything else." Bill dragged a digit down Dipper's bottom lip, and relished in the hitched breath he received in return. "I've seen everything, Pine Tree, and even I have to admit that you're a vision to behold." A hint of color rose to freshly shaven cheeks, and Bill had the sudden urge to lick it away. He smiled, dark and oily, and felt a shudder run through the human in his grasp. "My little Pine Tree..."

"Let's set the night ablaze." 


	14. Delusion

Yellowed halogens painted dark asphalt with light, and cut a swathe through the sunless night. The last few fingers of sunlight had dipped below the horizon just before they'd made it onto the road, and only the solemn moon was present to fight back the bleak emptiness of space. Smatterings of stars twinkled fruitlessly amongst the void. The whole of reality was marked by glowing head and tail lights, and beyond laid only the unseen. Their bubble of existence was occasionally broken for a scarce few moments at a time, as other universes passed through them. Containers of steel and glass and plastic that housed vessels of flesh and muscle and bone that protected a mind of blood and chemicals and electricity.

Bill cared for none of this. All he was focused on was the being shaking in the seat next to his. The somber, strong willed spirit of the forest, intertwined with the lonely echo of human civilization, wrapped around a dying thirst for knowledge and a hemorrhaging love for those that had proven themselves worth loving. Bill wasn't sure if he wanted to consume every iota of such a creature, or keep it contained to admire for all time. At the moment he decided to do neither, in favor of playing with the radio and eeking out those wonderful little flinches and jerks with each beat of static. After all, Bill rationalized, Dipper hadn't worn cologne, and what better substitute for such things than the smell of fear?

Dipper felt as though he would shake right out of his own earthly bonds. The calamitous culmination of driving at night, being forced to listen to the static laced radio, going to eat at a high class restaurant without his sister to act as a social buffer, and... and what Bill had said to him, and the way he'd looked at him. Less like meat to be devoured, or a prize to be displayed. More like... something worth cherishing. Dipper knew that was nonsense; he was nothing worth keeping around. Why the demon did so at all was a mystery he dared not unravel, for fear that the spell might be broken and Bill would remember his calling as a creature of unimaginable, unequivocal chaos. But still there remained a withered, shriveled part of himself that ached to know the reasoning behind everything. He grappled uncertainly with the decision to either stamp it out or breathe life back into it, but for now he would do neither. It was easier not to think, after all.

The restaurant they approached was one that had been open only a few short years. 'The Tower Garden' it was titled, the name written in flowery cursive on the front of the building. Dim spotlights illuminated the front entrance and garden, as well as the parking lot. Dipper found a space fairly close to the building itself, and pulled his key out of the ignition with a sigh of relief. It quickly became a sigh of exasperation as Bill crawled over him to be the first one out the driver's side door. He gently pushed an oxford out of his face, and heard the slap of Bill's hands on the concrete. "You're washing your hands before we eat."

"You humans and your immune systems... such an oxymoronic name, considering they aren't immune to everything." Bill straightened up to his full, intimidating height, and dusted bits of loose gravel off his palms. "If you really want to prevent this sort of thing, you should get me some gloves. Classy ones, with little triangles on the back."

"If you want something that specific, then I'll have to custom order it online." It'd probably be more expensive as well, but any price was worth paying if it kept Bill well away from the general public. Dipper closed the door behind him, and nearly ran into the demon.

"Yesss," Bill hissed in delight, ignorant of the human bouncing off him. "Soon I will be complete, Pine Tree. And when that day comes, I will exude such class and style that your little eyeballs will explode right out of your head!" Bill laughed much louder than was appropriate, considering they were standing outside in a dark, (somewhat) populated parking lot at night.

"..Right." Dipper tugged at the demon's wrist without really thinking about it. If Bill's stumbling towards him was any indication, he hadn't been expecting it either. "We should get inside and get a table. I'd rather not get stuck waiting all night." He saw Bill's eye flicker to the hand grasping at his wrist, and Dipper flushed before pulling away. Keep physical contact to a minimum.

The rush of moist, temperate air was a bit of a shock upon entering, before Dipper remembered the purpose behind it. The Tower Garden was an establishment that saw most of its traffic during bright spring mornings and early summer afternoons, when the multitudinous floor to ceiling windows and skylights could illuminate the restaurant in natural light. Everything was painted in pale whites and blues, and it was filled with the objects for which it was named; stacked plastic casings that housed over a dozen leafy, flowering plants each. Many of them grew smaller fruits and vegetables as well, which were harvested to be used as ingredients by the restaurant. There were humidifiers set up in strategic locations to keep everything moist and healthy, and Dipper likened it to the vegetable aisle at the grocery store. Not the one they robbed, or anything, but grocery stores in general.

"Pine Tree, I thought we were going out to eat, not to visit a greenhouse." Bill's tone was half teasing, and half accusatory. Both halves were equally dangerous.

"It's just an aesthetic thing," Dipper explained concisely. He glanced around at the vaguely familiar surroundings, and remembered much more vividly how much Mabel had adored this place. She'd been over the moon the moment she stepped in the door, and had spent most of the meal alternating between rattling off facts about the plants she recognized and badgering Dipper and Ford for information about the ones she didn't. She had been disappointed to find that their knowledge of flora extended only to the magical variety. Dipper could remember his own feelings, too. The scent of fresh air and healthy plant matter had caused a powerful yearning for the forests of Gravity Falls to blossom within him, and he reached for that same feeling now. There was nothing but a light tugging at his heart; easily ignored and completely directionless. He broke from his thoughts with a sigh, only to realize much too late that Bill had found the greeter first, and was currently involved in a hushed conversation with her. She didn't look... terrified, per-say. More quizzical and fascinated than anything, Dipper supposed. That was about the last thing he'd ever expected from someone who was cursed with the burden of interacting with Bill Cipher. He approached to try and preemptively defuse whatever horrible thing was surely about to happen, only to be met with a polite, professional smile and a horrifically toothy grin. "Bill-"

"If you'll both follow me," the greeter (Dipper, having remembered to wear contacts for once, caught the name 'Monica' on her nametag) interrupted unintentionally, "we'll get you set up with a table." Before he could say anything she was walking off, and he had no choice but to follow.

Bill oozed up next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Dipper fancied it could wrap around him twice with length to spare. "What's the matter, Pine Tree? Don't you trust me to play nice with others?"

"You haven't given me any reason to so far," he responded dryly, and slipped out from under Bill's arm. He adjusted the collar of his shirt to give his hands something to do, before settling down at the table they'd been led to. They were left alone with menus and silverware, and were thankfully far away from any other populated tables. Dipper unwrapped his utensils (at least the knife was pretty dull) and attempted to look like he wasn't intently watching the demon across from him do the same.

Bill had apparently caught his look, despite his (lacking) efforts at subtlety. "What's that look for? I'm not gonna try and dismember anyone with this glorified butter knife, if that's what you're thinking." Bill rolled the handle of the utensil in question over his numerous knuckles, inspecting the blade idly. "I'm not patient enough to even attempt a proper beheading with this thing."

"I'm glad to see you at least have standards." Dipper wasn't sure where this sudden burst of sarcasm was coming from, but it felt liberating to spout. Once he'd realized that Bill wasn't going to enter a murderous rage every time Dipper said something even vaguely snarky, his tongue had begun loosening. "I was more worried that you'd skewer your hand to the table, or something."

"As much fun as that would be-" Bill graciously ignored Pine Tree's snort. "I do have to keep this thing in good condition. I'll be using it for a while yet, after all." The implication of this being a long term... whatever it was, had Dipper's insides squirming uncomfortably. He'd been working off the assumption that Bill would be killing him somewhat soon, so hearing that that wouldn't be the case put everything in an entirely different perspective. Stan and Ford wouldn't be ignorant of what had happened forever. They'd find out about everything, do everything in their power to earn retribution on the dream demon. And they'd surely be next in line to be brutally disposed of. Dipper was ignorant to how intently said dream demon was watching his little breakdown. His hands twisted in the tablecloth that hung around his knees, and he struggled to keep his breathing under control.

He was broken from his creeping hysteria by the arrival of the waitress. She opened her mouth to speak, but before a word could be spoken Bill had already said something that no human tongue could ever hope to reproduce. She looked bewildered for all of a moment before hesitantly speaking up. "..I'm sorry?"

"I-I, uh- sorry, about him." Dipper cut in, trying to grin reassuringly and failing miserably. "He's... still not used to speaking English. He's visiting from, uh.." Place place he needed a place that she wouldn't know anything about- "Croatia! Yeah, he's a distant relative, and wanted to reconnect with his family stateside." Too much information stop TALKING-

Rather than disturbed, the waitress looked delighted. "Oh, really? My brother is actually studying abroad in Croatia right now! He spent months learning the language." Her smiled faded, replaced by puzzlement. "I don't really recognize that dialect, though."

Bill grinned and prepared to speak- "It's! Uh, a more obscure one. It's.. it's, uh.." Words words he had to say words now. Dipper struggled to dredge up whatever information he'd retained from his studies into Eastern European nations-

"Is Kajkavian," Bill piped up, in a flawless Eastern European accent. "My apology, is.. difficult, to go between to English." He sounded out each word with care, as if reciting them from memory instead of them coming naturally.

"Oh, no, I understand completely," the waitress responded. "My brother- oh, I'm so sorry, I should be taking drink orders. What will you be having this evening? Can I get you a wine list?"

"J-just water, thanks," Dipper croaked, flinching at his own horrific voice crack. He tried not to notice how horribly amused Bill appeared to be.

"Also water, thank you," Bill grinned charmingly, and somehow she didn't even seem to register the needles that filled his yawning maw of a mouth. "After orders.. we talk more, yes?"

"You're my only table for the night, so.. sure! My name is Lucilia, by the way." She flashed a cute smile that, in times past, might have made Dipper's heart palpitate. But now he just wanted her to go away, to have a name that didn't make his heart ache for reasons unbeknownst to him, to  _stop existing_ -

"Croatia? Really, Pine Tree?" Amusement and fond exasperation dripped from every word, once the waitress had left. "You couldn't have picked somewhere that her brother wasn't studying abroad in?"

"H-how was I supposed to know that?! I just... you can't _do_ that! Spouting nonsense in your... nightmare realm language, or whatever!" Dipper resisted the urge to gesture expressively.

Bill appeared mildly affronted. "Nonsense? I'll have you know, Pine Tree, that I was warning her to turn her phone off before driving home, because otherwise she'll be distracted and get into a fatal head on collision with an incoming pick-up truck." His sickening grin stretched to the ends of the earth, and threatened to swallow Dipper whole.

"Y-you... you're lying." Dipper's voice quivered, belaying his lack of trust in his own words. "You... you don't have infinite knowledge in that body; a human brain can't hold that much information."

"Sure, I don't have infinite knowledge at the moment," Bill shrugged casually. "But I know a lot of things, Pine Tree." He leaned over the table, and all Dipper could see was cold fire, burning gold, and right angles. "A LOT OF THINGS."

"We can't- you- we have to do something, we can't just let her die!" Dipper kept his voice hushed, for fear of being overheard.

"Sure we can. In fact, we're going to, because there's nothing to be done to prevent it." Bill looked so casual, as if he were just talking about the weather and Dipper wanted to make him _hurt_ like Dipper was hurting-

"What are you talking about?! Your whole thing is that nothing happens for a reason!" Dipper wrung his hands together, squeezing his fingers until they flushed red.

"Exactly. She's going to die for no good reason at all. Nothing happens for a reason, but some things are inevitable." Bill had taken to chewing on the tines of his fork, looking disinterested in the conversation.

"I'm going to tell her. I can't just let her-" Dipper was cut off by a bark of laughter. Bill was leaning even further over the table, practically on top of it at this point.

"Tell her what? That you know she's going to die if she gets on the road with her phone in her hand? She'll think you're insane."

"I don't _care_ if she thinks I'm crazy, as long as she's alive!" Dipper argued vehemently, keeping one ear open for the muted thump of heels on carpet.

"And you think she'll listen to someone she thinks is crazy?" Bill raised an eyebrow, settling back into his seat and twirling his fork between his fingers. "I know you're smarter than you act, Pine Tree. You just have to come to terms with the fact that you can't save everyone. I thought I'd already made that clear."

Dipper's indignant anger drained away in an instant. Cold, crippling despair flooded in behind it, so much that he expected it to pour from his mouth and drown him. "..I-"

"Here are your drinks; two waters." Lucilia set two glasses down on the table with a smile. "Are you both ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes to decide?"

Bill smiled pleasantly up at her, and opened his menu for the first time that night. "Yes, I will have..." He squinted at the menu, and his lips moved as if he were sounding something out. "..This one here." He tapped the menu, turning it to enter her field of vision. "And, eh... he will have this one, yes." Bill motioned to something else, and Lucilia scribbled down their orders.

"One seared tilapia with grilled asparagus and a half rotissere chicken with mango glaze? " She looked between them for confirmation, and Dipper gently inclined his head. "Alright, I'll have that out for you as soon as possible!"

Bill spilled another helping of twisted syllables before pausing midway through. He smiled bashfully, flashing his teeth. "Eh.. much apology. I was to say.. thank you for very well service."

Lucilia looked delightedly charmed by Bill's false mannerisms, and released a tinkling little laugh. "Thank you very much, sir; I'm flattered. I'll be right back with your food." She smiled one last time before leaving them alone together. It was the last place Dipper wanted to be.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of mood lighting and savory scents. Their food arrived and Dipper mechanically put food on fork in mouth, and listened to Lucilia and Bill have an in depth, if slightly stilted, conversation about Croatia. She gushed about plans to visit, and Bill spoke in halting English about historical sites and other places of interest. Dipper wasn't sure how long they sat there; time passed only in the draining of his glass and the emptying of his plate. He hadn't even realized he'd eaten most of his food until his stomach began protesting with painful cramps. He vaguely noticed that Bill had finished eating as well, and was wrapping up the conversation. "Is good to have been talking, but.. we must to go, now. Meeting rest of family tomorrow."

"Of course, of course. I'm sorry to have kept you here so long; I just don't know when to stop talking sometimes, I guess." Lucilia laughed in a self deprecating manner, and Dipper had the wild thought that it might be the last laugh she ever had. "I hope you enjoyed your meals, and feel free to come back and eat with us any time."

Dipper glanced down at the table, where he'd robotically scratched his signature on the bill. There was nothing keeping them there, anymore. He stood from his chair with glacial slowness, and cleared his throat. He wanted to yell, to scream in Lucilia's face that she should wait, should put down her phone, should get a friend to take her home. "..Drive safe," he choked out, before trudging towards the exit. He vaguely heard concern in her voice, and reassurance in Bill's. He didn't stick around to hear anything else.

Dipper waited in the car for several minutes, forehead rested against the steering wheel as he took deep, shuddering breaths. Someone else was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could only hope that she listened to his pathetic attempt at saving her life. Dipper didn't look up when the passenger side door opened, and a monster slid inside.

"You look pretty broken up, Pine Tree. But hey; it's not all bad! I've got a special secret that'll cheer you right up!" Bill's voice was chipper and painfully loud, like it always was. "You're gonna have to start driving before I tell you, though."

"..Alright." Dipper keyed the ignition and slid into reverse, tires rolling against concrete. He barely avoided backing into another vehicle, and turned to exit the lot. He drove in silence for minutes that stretched into centuries. Bill left the radio off.

"Okay, we're far enough away. Now, my big secret... is....." Bill sucked in an unnecessary breath-

"What did you say to her." Dipper wasn't asking. Bill glanced over, annoyed, and saw Pine Tree's eyes locked on the road. "The last thing you said, in whatever language that was."

"Oh," Bill laughed loudly. "Well, you see, funny story... that's what the secret is! I told her 'Surprise, you're not actually going to die because I made it all up'!" Bill grinned, and waited for a reaction. He didn't get one. "...She's not going to die, Pine Tree. I was lyi-"

"Oh, I know," Dipper interrupted loudly, louder than he'd ever spoken to Bill in person. "I know you're a disgusting liar, and you'd do or say anything to get the reaction you want. But you aren't getting it." Dipper clenched his hands around the steering wheel until they turned white. "So have your big laugh; so funny, your joke about someone dying. I bet you're so proud of how you tricked me, and relished the thought of me crying and pleading for you to do something. I..." Dipper's cold anger thawed into something warm and vulnerable. "I thought that you.. no, it doesn't matter what I thought. What I deluded myself into thinking. Because at the end of the day..."

"You'll always be Bill Cipher." 


	15. Ignorance

No words were spoken between them on the drive home. Could Dipper really even consider that his home? A prison of his own making, populated by himself and a nightmarish jailer. The place where he had been hunted. The place where he had spilled blood. The place where he was alone. The place where he could never be alone again. He tried to rationalize his anger, but couldn't think of any sort of solid reasoning for it. He knew, with bleak certainty, that Bill was going to be himself and Dipper could do nothing about it. The demon was a crafty, manipulative liar, and Dipper wanted to hit himself, why had he been so _easy_ to manipulate- The key to manipulation was to take advantage of trust, and Dipper had very little of that to spare. Certainly he couldn't waste it on a creature like Bill Cipher. But somehow it had snaked out of him and entwined him around the demon's fingers. He'd let twisted hands pull him into a dance of falsities. For the briefest moment, he'd almost thought...

Dipper ignored the thought, and pulled into his driveway. The house was completely dark, save for the circles of illumination provided by his headlights. Those were quickly extinguished, plunging the surroundings in black. Dipper wanted to be as far away from that darkness as possible. He fumbled for his house keys even as he was stepping out of the car, and slammed the door shut behind him. He vaguely heard another door open, but put it out of his head. He didn't care. Dipper unlocked his front door, almost surprised that he had remembered to lock it in the first place. Being robbed would have been unfortunate, but Dipper had no real attachment to the majority of his possessions. They were just things he'd bought. None of them mattered.

He could feel the presence standing behind him as he lingered in the doorway. It was far enough away to be considered a comfortable distance, but close enough to make it clear that it was waiting. Dipper wondered how long he could get away with loitering in front of his own door, but decided against it. Too much effort. He stepped into the empty embrace of familiarity, and thought of what had last taken place here despite his best efforts. 'Enchanting'... Dipper snorted and left the memory to decay, fumbling to undo the buttons on his shirt as he approached the stairs.

"Pine Tree." Bill stood in the transitory floorspace between living room and kitchen, and stared after the wisp of humanity that had slipped through his cage of fingers. A frown tugged at his stretched lips when Pine Tree showed no signs of having heard him, merely continuing on up the stairs. "PINE TREE. You can't ignore me forever, you know." Bill's quarry disappeared around the corner, and the demon resisted the urge to barrel after him and MAKE Pine Tree listen to him. Instead he stomped into the kitchen, shoes clacking loudly against hardwood and tile. He thought about breaking something to garner some sort of attention, but... that would just make Dipper less likely to talk to him. Bill would have to confront him somewhere he couldn't be ignored. A pleased little grin sprouted on his face, and he crept up the stairs on all fours. He'd just need to wait a short while for everything to work in his favor. After all, Bill always got his way.

Dipper nudged his bedroom door open with a foot, ignoring the protesting creak of the hinges. He could remember the sound they'd made as they were bent to the breaking point. He remembered the searing light that had blazed through his window while the hour of the wolf yet howled. He remembered the licorice stench of whatever Bright Eyes had cultivated within him. He remembered the words burned into his ceiling, the glaring death toll of his digital clock, the scent of his own blistering skin. Dipper Pines turned on his light, and descended into the casket of his unmade bed. He pulled the sheets over his head, and didn't bother to pretend that everything was alright. There was no point anymore.

Bill could feel the exact moment that his Pine Tree departed from the waking world. Could see the rise and fall of his covered form even out. Could taste the hibernation of true consciousness. Bill crept over the floor on all fours, insectean in appearance and silent in movement. He ascended onto the bed (A mattress on the floor, Pine Tree? How plebian!) and fanned his fingers out, spreading as much pressure as possible to avoid rousing the telling creak of springs. He inspected the outline of Pine Tree's curled legs through the sheets, and imagined what they'd look like in his hands. Later. Right now, he had to get his Pine Tree to consider just looking at him again. Bill settled down on what little free space there was left, feet hanging off the edge and arms crumpled awkwardly. He closed his eyes, and let the grey seep in.

The Mindscape was there to greet them. An endless ocean of lacking pigment spread to all corners, populated only by the crumbling architecture of Dipper's decaying psyche. The host of the Mindscape was sat upon his bed, knees pulled up to press against his forehead. He should have known this would happen. Bill clearly couldn't stand being ignored, and now he'd perform some grisly ritual to remind Dipper of why it was a bad idea to do so. He'd just... Dipper would... sit there, with his eyes closed, and frantically wish he were anywhere else. Like he always did. He felt tears burn behind his retinas, even though there was no point in crying anymore. Everything was a waste of time and energy, now. So Dipper sat, motionless, and waited for his punishment to come.

A long, low whistle pierced the oppressive silence of the Mindscape. Bill peered around at the cobbled together room, which had fallen even more into disrepair since he'd last been in it. But now that he really took the time to look around.. he could see what few pieces of Pine Tree were left. The room smelled faintly of damp redwood and freshly broken pine needles. The scent of the forest. The scent of HIS forest. Bill inhaled a deep breath of it, and let it live inside him for the briefest of moments. Delectable. One burning eye perused what furniture was intact inside the room, while the other spun chaotically in its socket. Searching for something else, it seemed.

He wandered over to a writing desk, covered in papers scrawled with ink. 'DON'T THINK. APPEASE BILL. DON'T LET HIM HURT ANYONE ELSE.' How flattering. Bill choked down a laugh, and inspected the rest of the desk's contents. A lock of red hair, braided and pressed between two pieces of glass. An old, well loved shirt, stained with cheese dust and question marks. Bill rolled the eye that wasn't already spinning, and moved on. He momentarily admired the stained glass window, decorated in his likeness. Always watching. An end table was home to the Journals; worn leather tomes emblazoned with a six fingered hand each. Sixer had always been a little self absorbed. Explained why he couldn't see past his own nose, at least. He pressed his own fingers down on the silhouette, and grinned at his auxiliary digits. Not so special anymore, huh Sixer? His fingers danced over the scarred wood of the table, and moved on to a felt fez near the edge. He smirked at it, and flicked it with a finger. Below it, rested against the edge of the table, was a magic 8-ball cane; the signature of Mr. Mystery. Bill gave it a shake, and a message blurred into the place of the numeral painted on it. 'Buzz off, creep!' He snickered, quiet and derisive, and let the cane fall back against the table. It was odd, he pondered, that he had seen the obvious signs of those closest to Dipper, except for-

Bill's errant pupil snapped into focus. There it was. Over in the corner was a chest, covered in a neatly folded pile of soft fabrics. He assumed they would have been painted in a myriad of dizzyingly bright colors. A little pet bed was stationed next to it, labeled 'Waddles' in poppy, sparkling handwriting. Swine were more trouble than they were worth. Bill approached, and caught the faint scent of sugar glaze and glitter glue. He grinned down at the first sweater of the bunch, which was marked by a stylized shooting star. He reached out-

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THAT!" Dipper's scream cracked like ceramic, but it had the intended effect of startling Bill enough to give him pause. Dipper fell out of his bed in his haste to get up, fingers scraping against loose wood fibers as he stood. "Y-you- get AWAY from that! Don't even  _look_ at it!" He thrust an accusing finger out at the demon, and it trembled with nerves. "Get out of my Mindscape, _now_. I don't want you here."

Bill considered saying something snarky. He felt the urge to grab one of Shooting Star's sweaters and rip it in half in front of Pine Tree's face. "...Okay. I won't touch it." He very carefully put a respectable distance between himself and the corner that had been dedicated to Mabel Pines, and adjusted his bowtie. "But I'm not leaving until you talk to me. And no," he spoke before Dipper could open his mouth, "your yelling at me doesn't count."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Dipper ground out through his teeth. "Now get _out_." A door materialized at the far end of the dilapidated room, painted wood with a blinking 'EXIT' sign floating above it.

Bill quirked an eyebrow. "Very creative. Look, Pine Tree, I know you're mad-" he was cut off as a thick set of steel bars erupted from the floor beneath his feet, surrounding him in a cage. He huffed in exasperation, and pulled the bars apart as if they were nothing more than putty. "Bill Cipher, remember? Master of the mind? Is that ringing any bells for you?" A cartoonishly oversized cane emerged from.. somewhere, yanking Dipper forwards with a yelp and depositing him face first on a beautifully upholstered chaise lounge. Bill settled down in a cozy leather armchair opposite him, and stared intently. "Ready to listen?"

Dipper flipped rightside up, sinking into the chaise lounge with a tired scowl. "I don't want to hear any of your made up excuses. I just want you to leave me alone."

"Leave you alone to do WHAT, Pine Tree?" Bill tilted his head in mock curiosity. "Leave you to wallow in your own misery until you swallow a bunch of pills, or drown yourself in the tub, or fling yourself off the road? I don't know about you, but that sounds like a waste."

Dipper swallowed the lump of molten glass in his throat. "I... i-it doesn't _matter_ what you think! You've already got your revenge on me, so leave me alone and go plot the end of the world, or something! You're just wasting your time with me."

"It's hardly a waste if I'm enjoying myself, now is it?" Bill frowned the moment the words left his mouth, as if that wasn't exactly how they were supposed to come out. But.. he meant them, didn't he? He pushed the thought aside. "Besides, you're avoiding the question. What would you ever do without me, hm?"

Dipper sucked in a breath, and lowered his eyes. His hands fisted in the fabric of his slacks, and he was silent for a long moment. "Why does it matter to you if I die, Bill? Why do you care?"

Bill's laughter resounded around the tiny spit of wood and memory that resided within the vast emptiness of Dipper's Mindscape. It was swallowed by the void outside, populating only the still air that engulfed them. "You know... it's funny that you ask that, Pine Tree."

"I really don't know." 


	16. Shift

The endless expanse of the murky grey Mindscape encapsulated them in its utter neutrality. When Dipper really thought about it, this seemed like the perfect place for any sort of confrontation. At least from his perspective. Being surrounded by mementos of his loved ones while he was cradled by old familiarity and recent comforts was... well, he could think of worse places to be. However, it also exposed all of his vulnerabilities, at least to those who knew the Mindscape well. So of course he'd be in it with a creature that manipulated the mind without a care in the world, twisting thoughts and muddling memories and harvesting information with ease. There was more than one reason he didn't want Bill Cipher in his head.

But right now.. Dipper sighed out a breath; the first sound either of them had made in several long minutes. "Okay," he said simply. "Okay, you can give me whatever excuses you've conjured up, and I won't interrupt. If I don't like them, you're leaving my Mindscape."

Bill perked up from his ruminating, dispersing the cloud of moodiness that had descended upon him. "You've got a-" he paused, and cleared his throat. Best not to dig his hole any deeper. "I mean, alright. So, about the whole..." Bill cycled his hand through the air, "joking about that girl dying, thing. I.. didn't think it would upset you the way it did." He raised both hands in an attempt to ward off Dipper's incredulous stare. "Don't give me that look, I'm trying to be honest with you! Okay, first of all, I thought you wouldn't believe me. I mean, fair warning; I'm not exactly trustworthy. I'm sure you know all about that." Bill's grin tightened a little when he caught the fumes of anger wafting off of Pine Tree. Not exactly freshening things up, anymore. "I didn't mean to- I mean, okay. I did intend to upset you. I wanted you to.. I wanted..." Bill frowned lightly, trying to figure out exactly what he HAD wanted. It had been more of an impulsive action, honestly; not much thought was put behind it. But he couldn't just TELL Dipper that! "I just wanted to see what would happen," he explained lamely. "I didn't mean for you to get as angry and broken up as you did, I really didn't! What's the fun in having you ignore me, right? So uh... if you could stop with that, the ignoring thing, that'd be great."

Dipper stared for a long moment, trying to process the load of nonsense Bill had just spewed at him. But really, could he have expected anything different? "Apologize," he said shortly. "If you can manage that, I'll think about cutting out the ignoring business."

"..What?" Bill looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head. Well, actually, the demon probably wouldn't be too ruffled by that. "Apologize? Kid, if you really think-" he paused, reading the look Dipper was giving him. The words behind it were ones even Bill wouldn't repeat in polite company. "What I MEANT to say, was... I'm sorry."

"No, you aren't." The sheer edge to Dipper's voice cut through the demon like a razor blade. "You're not sorry for anything you've done, because you're cruel and senseless and you do whatever you want without caring about the consequences." He soaked in the demon's potent mixture of crestfallen-ness and incredulity for a few satisfying moments, before softening his glare. " _But_ , I appreciate you at least making the effort."

Bill sat up straighter, a dizzyingly wide grin stretching across his face. "You mean you aren't going to ignore me anymore?"

"Yeah, sure," Dipper acquiesced uncertainly, but had no time to think about it, because in the next moment he was burdened with a lapful of demon. He wheezed at the sudden weight that had barreled into him, and felt familiar hands grasping at his face. "Bill, oh my god-"

"Oh Pine Tree, you've made me the happiest girl in all of Kansas!" Bill's voice rose in pitch (somehow) to resemble a particularly squeaky southern belle, and he gently pinched pale cheeks between his fingers. His Pine Tree's face was just so touchable!

"You are ridiculousness incarnate, I swear-" Dipper batted at the demon's lanky arms, trying to remove the hands attached to them from his person. "Bill, listen. _Listen_. If you _ever_ do something like that again, I'll give you the silent treatment for the rest of my life." To think that the greatest power he held over the demon was his own attention. Dipper thought it best to not question how such a thing had come to pass.

Bill paused in his manipulation of facial flesh and cartilage, peering into Dipper's murky eyes. "...Define 'something like that' for me, would ya?"

"Anything that involves the death, injury, or emotional/mental traumatization of any other person." That was fairly inclusive and succinct, right? "And this isn't a deal. Trying to work around the specifics and find loopholes will earn you the silent treatment, too."

Bill pouted in dismay, and pressed the side of his face against Pine Tree's in an attempt to garner sympathy. He had a feeling that it wasn't very effective. "Fiiiine. We have a-.. an agreement. Being ignored by you is way too boring to put up with." He pulled away to flash a winsome grin in Pine Tree's face, and received a flinch in return.

"Yeah, yeah. Can I be left alone to sleep in peace, now?" Dipper forced a pointed yawn, despite the fact that he felt perfectly well rested. At least, as well rested as he ever did.

"Of course not!" Bill responded gleefully. "I'm not letting you slip away from me so quick, Pine Tree. There's so many things we can do here that we couldn't normally." His lips peeled back in a nauseating grin, and Dipper felt a sudden pulse of dread.

"I-if you mutilate me again, I won't talk to you!" He sputtered, frantically erecting his only working defense.

"Whaaaat? Mutilation? You really think that little of me, Pine Tree? Don't answer that," Bill added hastily. "Look, I won't break even a single bone in your body, or tear off any limbs, or even remove your organs! I'm a changed demon, Pine Tree. No more mauling and dismbembering for me," he promised solemnly, crossing several pairs of fingers behind his back. "I was just thinking we could have some fun. The Mindscape allows us to do all sorts of things, after all. Like, oh, I don't know-" Bill waved a hand through the air, and a swarm of winged shrunken heads descended from above, screaming incessantly. "Like conjure a swarm of flying shrunken heads, random idea don't know where that came from."

Dipper sat, petrified with both disgust and disbelief, as the swarm approached. His screams soon joined the collective cacophony as one swooped at him, and he frantically batted it away. "Bill get rid of these things why would I _ever_ want to see this-" A comically oversized fly swatter appeared in the air, and swung at the swarm of heads. But instead of slapping them away, it sliced through them like butter, and diced chunks of shrunken heads rained to the floor.

"Very creative, Pine Tree. And I'm not actually being facetious this time." Bill plucked a hunk of shriveled meat off the floor, and popped it into his mouth. It made a series of sickening pops and cracks as his teeth perforated it, and Dipper cringed in disgust. "Mm, tangy. You think we could order some of these online to make lunch?"

"Pretty sure you're not supposed to eat shrunken heads, Bill." Dipper carefully pulled his legs up onto the lounge to avoid having to come in contact with the chopped craniums. "As much fun as it is to have you assault me with ghoulish severed heads, I'd much prefer to do anything else ever."

"It baffles me how much of a buzzkill you can be, Pine Tree. What happened to all that adventerous spirit? Don't you want to almost get eaten by dinosaurs again, or something?" Bill prepared to snap his fingers-

"It died," Dipper replied flatly. "It died with Mabel. Now please, leave me alone so I can sleep."

Bill slowly lowered his hand, and felt something lurch unpleasantly in his chest. It was something he'd only experienced a scant few times now, despite how much he hoped to never do so again. He clutched at the space over his heart with one hand, fingers bunching in the thick fabric of his suit jacket. He ignored the look on Pine Tree's face (Concern? Ha, not likely!) and turned away. "Right. I'll see ya when you wake up, kid." The world around him melted into monochrome watercolors-

-and Bill woke up. And to think he'd been worrying that it wouldn't work! He glanced down at the slightly creased face of the human lying prone beside him, and watched in fascination as the lines of stress smoothed away into unconscious serenity. He realized that the reason behind Pine Tree's discomfort had been his own foray into the Mindscape, and a frown formed on his face. Where he should have felt indignation, or even anger, there was only a hollow aching. He decided to ignore it for now; couldn't be too important, right?

Bill itched at his shoulder, suddenly feeling constricted by his layers of clothing. They were quickly discarded by nimble fingers, and he sighed in pleasure at the whisper of soft cotton sheets over his bare flesh. He could understand why Pine Tree spent so much time in this bed. Other than the crippling depression, of course. A quiet huff of laughter escaped him, but it almost felt... forced. He wasn't sure why; the misery of others was as funny as it had always been. He was just getting bored of seeing Pine Tree miserable, Bill rationalized. He'd seen the kid tear himself apart for months and months, and it was getting old.

Bill decided it was time for a change of pace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say that I really appreciate all the support this story has gotten. It really helps motivate me to write more.


	17. Promise

Too warm sheets cocooned him from head to toe. The charred scent of burnt breakfast floated in from the distance. A high pitched voice joyfully screeched his name. Last night's clothes stuck awkwardly and uncomfortably to his body. Dipper woke to a scenario so painfully familiar that he could almost pretend it was something whole, and right. That there was someone here who loved him, unconditionally. Someone who would face his fears at his side, and coax him back into living life. He could almost pretend.

If only it were a different voice whose vocal cords vibrated a different name. The name given to him, rather than the one forced upon him. "PINE TREEEEE," Bill shrieked, and it sounded slightly more panicked than it had a moment before. "THERE'S A LOT OF SMOKE COMING OUT OF THIS FOUR SLOT HEATING COIL BOX, IS THAT NORMAL?!"

Dipper mumbled something that might have been an answer, and crawled out of his bed. He mechanically stripped off what remained of the too-warm clothes that stuck to his skin, apparently having forgotten to completely disrobe last night. He'd been pretty moody, so it wasn't a surprise. There was also the fact that he'd grown so used to just wearing the same thing over and over again, that the need to change out of things before bed had begun slipping his mind. There were a lot of things that had begun slipping his mind.

At the sound of a wordless screech, Dipper rolled his eyes and began trudging towards his bedroom door. Left open, of course. He glanced back at the piles of clothes that littered his floor, before deciding that laundry was a secondary objective in comparison to preventing a house call from the fire department. "Bill, please don't burn my house down," he called as he descended the stairs, and his shuffling gait soon became a frantic stumble as he saw the billows of black smoke pouring out of his kitchen. "Bill oh my GOD you're not actually burning the house down are you?!"

The demon in question was parked in front of where Dipper had taken out his toaster a few months ago, and then hadn't bothered with putting it away. He slowly turned to face the human, something odd festering in the smirk plastered on his face. Was that... guilt? Impossible. Surely Bill had no idea what that even was, in its actual context. "Well, I uh... you see... your food preparation devices are malfunc hunks of garbage, Pine Tree! This thing-" Bill motioned to the smoke spewing toaster, "won't even accept the delicious slurry of unfertilized farm bred chicken yolk-and-embryo that I poured into it! I even left out the shell, like the recipe book said!"

"Bill..." Dipper sank into a chair at his squat little kitchen table, and pressed his face to his hands. His legs had almost given out from sheer exasperation and disbelief. "You... you can't put _liquids_ in a _toaster_. It's not designed for that. You're only supposed to use it for toasting bread and bagels, and that's it."

"The 'that's it' wasn't necessary, Pine Tree. You had me at 'only'," Bill snarked, ineffectually twisting dials on the toaster. He waved away some of the smoke in an attempt to peer inside, and ended up hacking on a lungful of it regardless. "Ow okay, that's not a 'ha-ha' pain, that's an annoying pain."

" _You're_ an annoying pain," Dipper mumbled, wondering if it was even worth getting up and unplugging the toaster. Deciding that being on fire was probably at least a little bit worse than being alive, he stood from the table and approached the visibly agitated demon. Dipper hip checked Bill out of the way, seeing him stumble wildly from out of the corner of his eye as he unplugged the toaster and dumped it in the sink to douse it in water. "Toast is overrated anyway," he lied in an attempt to make himself feel better. He eyed his ruined toaster for a few solemn moments, before whirling around to confront the demon. "And what exactly were you doing, besides destroying my toaster?"

"Hey, don't make it seem like it's MY fault!" Bill cried defensively. "I was trying to make morning breakfast for you!" He gestured emphatically at their recently stolen carton of eggs, which was wide open to reveal several pulped messes of yolk and eggshell. "It took some doing, I'll have you know."

"Bill, you don't have to specify that it's morning breakfast-" he interrupted himself with a ragged sigh. "As much as I... 'appreciate' you trying to make breakfast... don't. Ever. I don't have any more appliances to spare. I can live without a toaster; I can't live without a microwave." He paused. "Or a fridge."

Bill opened his mouth to retort with something scathing that'd surely take Pine Tree down a peg... and refrained. It'd just be boring, he told himself. He didn't care. Nothing Pine Tree said mattered at all, and he ignored the foreign twinge in his chest in favor of stomping out of the kitchen. Bill didn't care.

Dipper looked on as Bill proceeded to crawl over the island in the middle of the kitchen, knock over an empty plastic cup in a very purposeful manner, and then scuttle onto the couch to tug a blanket over his head. Dipper could very vividly imagine him pouting underneath it, and wasn't sure if he should be amused or horrified. The trillion year old demon that had ruined his life was sulking under a blanket because Dipper had scolded him for destroying a toaster. What was even happening anymore. Deciding to ignore him for now, Dipper rummaged through his fridge for some slightly stale pizza, and popped a slice into the microwave. But... after a moment of consideration, he stuffed Bill's last slice in there as well. It really did seem like the demon had been sincere about wanting to make him breakfast; he was good at lying in voice, but his face hid nothing. He'd looked quite a bit more frustrated than gleeful at the sight of the burnt toaster, and something had flashed across his face when Dipper dismissed him. He hadn't gotten a good enough look to decipher it, but it certainly wasn't anything positive.

Dipper rapped his knuckles on the island to garner Bill's attention, and frowned when he didn't elicit any visible reaction. "Hey, come eat." The mention of food at least got his head out from under the blankets, but the stormy expression remained firmly in place. "Don't look at me like that. Just come eat something. I'm sure you're hungry." When wasn't he? The demon hadn't seemed even close to satisfied with his food intake so far.

Bill peered suspiciously at the innocuous slice of pizza, before his limbs slowly emerged from underneath the blanket. Lean musculature visibly flexed and shifted under paper thin skin as he approached, spindly limbs carrying him in long, loping strides with a strange grace; he had the appearance of an inhuman predator, and Dipper supposed that wasn't far from the truth. He reared up to plant his hands on the counter, hunched over to about eye level. "..Let it be known that I do not appreciate this blatant manipulation attempt." He tore into his pizza with relish, but kept his gaze firmly on Dipper's face the entire time. Once he was sufficiently smeared with grease and marinara, Dipper wordlessly handed over a paper towel. "Your tricks won't work on me, Pine Tree," Bill hissed, wiping roughly at his face. "I INVENTED deceit! I am the MASTER of lies! And I'll be keeping an eye on you." He gestured at both his eyes, before pausing and pointing only to the functioning one. "That one specifically!"

Dipper felt what might have been a smile pull at his face, but he wasn't completely sure what those were even like anymore. "I'll be sure to remember that," he replied agreeably. "It would be foolish of me to try and best you at your own game, after all." This would be nice, Dipper realized, were it in another life. One where his sister was alive, and she was standing at this island, poking fun at the both of them and spilling edible glitter that he'd have to clean up later. If things had taken a different route... Bill might have even been a friend. Dipper's smile fell away as he succeeded at inadvertently mangling his own lifting spirits. As if he didn't already know that it was his self sabotage that caused everything in the first place, it had to rear its ugly head and take a chunk out of what few pieces of himself still remained. He stared down at his half eaten pizza, and his appetite fled to wherever it had sequestered itself away the past few months. "Do you want the rest of-"

"YES." Bill snatched the plate as if it were about to try and escape, folding up the slice and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. His maw worked like a particularly vicious paper shredder, tearing it to bits in moments. Dipper vaguely wondered if he possessed an equivalent to molars. It was probably better not to ask. He jumped, startled, when the demon slammed both fists down on the table. "YOU KNOW WHAT, PINE TREE? We're getting out of this heap and going to do something to alleviate our boredom!"

"I'd be fine with staying here. Forever." Dipper wasn't sure how true that was, but it was probably better than another one of Bill's 'activities'. If it was anything like the previous ones, he wasn't sure how much of his mental state would remain afterwards.

"Unacceptable. I'll drag you out of here by your teeth if I have to. What're those things humans do, with the colored tents and the safety hazard rides and the rigged games where you win ugly stuffed creatures? Funparks? Amusement fairs? Something like that." Bill performed numerous complicated hand gestures in a pointless attempt to convey what he was saying.

"What? You mean a fun fair? Amusement park? I don't even know if there are any in town right now, and I'm not driving halfway across the state to take you to one." Dipper glanced back at the sink, before turning to the demon with a disapproving stare. "If we're going out at all, the only thing we're doing is getting a new toaster."

Bill snarled in frustration, splaying his hands wide. "I'm trying to make an effort here, Pine Tree, and you're throwing it in my face!" He mumbled under his breath, just loud enough to hear. "I bet Shooting Star would have taken me to a fair."

They both froze in place, coated in a ceramic layer of tension. Bill's eye was blown wide, and Dipper's were growing glassy. Without a word he circumvented the island and began walking towards the stairs. "Pine- Pine Tree, wait! Don't go, I-" Bill stumbled after him, a hand landing on Dipper's hunched shoulder. The human violently flinched away, and quickened his pace. "No, no- I didn't mean it!"

Dipper turned like the shadow of a sun dial; grindingly slow and impending. Instead of his face being twisted with anger, as Bill had expected, it was contorted into a mask of hurt. Dipper's arms were firmly wrapped around himself, protecting the core of agonizing grief and despair that had coalesced inside of him. "Then why did you say it?" He choked out, as if the words physically ailed him to speak.

Bill stammered for a response, his tongue tying in knots as Pine Tree's look darkened. Just as he was turning away, the demon found his voice. "I'm sorry," he strained to say it, words shredded by the knives in his throat. "I didn't- I don't know why I said it. No, I mean... I do. It's a weak point, and I took advantage of it. And I shouldn't have. I just needed you to listen to me." Bill felt that same pain in his guts, the kind that buzzed and squirmed and made him feel sick to his stomach. In that moment, he hated it beyond anything else.

"...Don't mention her again," Dipper murmured, once an eternity of suspense had passed. "I'll take you to a fair, or whatever is in town, but you can't mention her. Please." The sheer pleading in his voice disgusted him, but he couldn't keep it away. It was just easier if he didn't think about it, but Bill made that impossibly difficult.

"Alright," Bill nodded frantically, hands twisting together like a pair of spiders. "I won't- yeah. I'll listen."

"I promise." 


	18. Insight

  
"Bill what are you doing-"

"I'm listening! You said to pour in bleach, and I'm doing it!" Bill shoved his hand against Dipper's face, holding him at bay as he drained a bottle of bleach into the empty washing machine. He screeched like a bird of prey as Dipper ducked underneath his outstretched arm and snatched the bottle from his hand.

"We have to put the clothes in first, and you aren't supposed to pour in the whole bottle!" Dipper screwed the cap back on, secure in the knowledge that Bill would have immense trouble in unlocking and removing it.

"All you said to do was pour in the bleach!" Bill cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. Dipper had the sudden mental image of Bill actually vomiting severed hands, and shuddered in disgust. Better not give him any ideas for Mindscape shenanigans. "How was I supposed to know that there were all these complicated instructions without being told?!"

"You weren't told them because you didn't let me finish talking!" Dipper groaned into his hands, and leaned against his washing machine. He hoped against hope that it wasn't ruined as well. "I guess we're washing whites first," he muttered, and began mechanically picking articles of white clothing out of the overflowing laundry basket that he'd had Bill drag into the laundry room.

"See, what's the problem? We can get whites out of the way, and handle the other ones next!" Bill puffed up with pride like a particularly mangled cockatiel, and began sifting through the mountainous pile of clothes.

"I guess. Just... wait for me to finish talking next time, okay?" Dipper rolled his eyes discreetly, and frowned at the sheer volume of blindingly bright yellow that was interspersed between more muted colors. Those could probably be a load all their own.

"Right, I'll be sure to- wait, are you still talking? Should I have waited?" Dipper sighed at the pitiful look at Bill gave him, and plucked a shirt out of his arms.

"No, I was done talking. What is up with you, anyway? You never seemed to have a problem with interrupting and ignoring me before." Dipper could almost even understand why; it wasn't like he said much worth listening to anyway. He paused in the middle of gathering laundry, heaving out a shuddering breath as he felt something bleak and hopeless descend upon him. He bit his lip and ignored Bill's half cocked stare in favor of loading the washing machine.

"Well, you're right. I don't have an issue with talking over you, because it's one of the hundreds of things I do best. But you asked me not to, and so I'm going to honor your wishes. Probably." Bill considered asking what was up with Pine Tree, but discarded the idea. Like he didn't already know. "Okay, clothes are in the machine. Now do we put the bleach in?" Bill grinned at the incredulous look he received, before forcing a jovial cackle. "Ha! Just kidding. We just turn it on now, right?"

"Not yet, I don't think. Aren't we supposed to add laundry detergent?" Dipper didn't wait for an answer, already rooting through the cabinet of laundry paraphernalia. He found a brightly colored jug, and squinted at the worn out 'Color Guard' label. He flipped it around, scanning the instructions printed on the back. "Okay, it says to pour up to the line on the cap, and dump it in. Or.. two for a double load." He glanced up at Bill. "Any chance you'd know how big a double load is?"

Bill scoffed, looking affronted. "You really think I would have wasted my nigh omniscient powers on watching humans do laundry? Who do you think you're talking to, here?"

"How should I know what you spent all your time doing? Probably.. peeling off baboon skins, or making necklaces out of snake heads or something. And making deals with people to usher in the apocalypse, of course." Dipper eventually just used one capful of detergent, and hoped that wouldn't ruin the clothes somehow.

"I spent a lot of time watching you in particular, actually." Dipper froze under the heightening intensity of Bill's stare. His eye was molten, and pinned Dipper in place as effectively as a stake through the chest. "You impressed me, and outwitted me, and managed to botch a plan I'd put in motion from the moment you glorified apes figured out how to bang two rocks together. A typical human somehow ruined everything I'd worked for, without even trying. You didn't even know what you'd done until it was all over with. Until I was clutching the smoldering ashes of all my work, and watching it slip from my grasp. I should have been more angry at you, really, but part of me was... thrilled, to have an opponent that could best me. Someone bound by the limits of physicality, defying a being with limitless potential and coming out the victor. It fascinates me how you could accomplish so much..." Bill grasped Dipper's face with both hands, and it was only then that he realized how close the demon had come to him. He stared into burning gold, and felt his heart palpitate wildly. "..and yet, when everything was said and done, you became so little. A broken husk, cowering in the dark. Watching you fall, watching you crumble at my hand... it brought me satisfaction beyond anything else." Bill gazed right through him, penetrating ocular cavities and sinking right into grey matter. And then he turned away, a grin on his face. "But not so much anymore."

It took Dipper a few moments to remember how to breathe, and by that point Bill was playing with the dial on the washing machine. "I... w-we have to set it properly." He leaned over to twist it in what he was fairly sure was the proper position, and start the wash cycle.

He watched with faint awareness as Bill climbed up onto the vibrating washing machine, and beamed down at him with needle teeth. Even in the dim lighting of the laundry room, his golden coiff glowed as if haloed, creating an uncannily beautiful picture of extreme irony. Dipper's blood seemed unsure if it should drain from his face or flare in his cheeks when he realized he'd thought of this repulsive creature as 'beautiful'. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Something other than the numerous things already wrong with him, he amended. He'd looked at Bill almost the same way when he had worn that suit. Both times, even. He knew the demon wasn't pleasing to look at in any way, but... something was skewed in his brain, apparently. Maybe he was just going crazy from loneliness, and clinging to the one constant that remained in his life. Yeah, that was it.

Dipper stared at the radiant demon, and continued deluding himself.

 


	19. Admittance

"Fun fair, fun fair, fun fair!" Bill chanted rhythmically as Dipper struggled to unload everything from the dryer at once. He kept dropping loose articles and would have to repeatedly fish them off the floor to add them back into the compendium of clothing. "Boy, this whole 'mindless chanting' thing sure is invigorating. No wonder you humans do it so often!"

"I'm glad you've found your new calling in life," Dipper droned, trying to scoop a sock off the floor without toppling his entire tower of assorted fabrics. "Now if you would please help me, we'd get to the fun fair much sooner."

"Hmm... I dunno, it's nice to watch you do menial labor on my behalf. Reminds me of the good old days in Egypt. Man were those guys gullible!" Bill laughed at a piercing pitch, seemingly lost in fond memories of manipulating an entire society for thousands of years.

Dipper flung a pair of boxer briefs at Bill's stupid cackling face, flushing slightly when he realized they were his own. And then he realized it'd be embarrassing if it was Bill's underwear, too, and then he contemplated cramming himself into the dryer and turning it on 'incinerate'. He really wasn't sure why that was a setting. "Seriously, we'd get this done much quicker if- _Bill oh my god are you sniffing my underwear?_!?!?!"

  
"What? No! I was just breathing, as meat lifeforms oft do, and they happened to be near my nasal passages!" Bill shook the shorts off his face, looking appalled at Dipper's accusation. "Besides, they just smell like detergent, and I already know what you smell like, so what's the point?"

"That might be the creepiest thing you've ever said," Dipper deadpanned, straining to lift the overflowing laundry basket so he could dump all the clothes on his bedroom floor. At least then they'd be somewhat near his dresser.

"I'm sure I could top that pretty easy," Bill bragged, deformed hands planted firmly on his partially exposed, jutting hipbones. Dipper's eyes strayed towards them, and he firmly yanked his gaze away. Bright yellow underwear was not worth his contemplation. Especially not when it was such a hideous shade. Or when it was on such a hideous creature. Satisfied with his reassessment of the situation, Dipper began staggering towards the stairs to dump off the newly cleaned clothes. Since when had laundry become so heavy?

"Okay, this is getting a bit pathetic to watch." Dipper locked up as warm, smooth flesh pressed up along and beyond the length of his back. Bill's arms oozed around his own, grasping onto the lip of the basket and taking nearly all of the burden off of Dipper's noodly arms. "Go run off and figure out where the nearest fun fair is, or something. I'd rather not see you slip down the stairs and crack your skull open with a basket of laundry, despite how hilarious it would be."

"R-right," Dipper flinched at his own voice crack," I'll just, uh. Do. That. Right now." He was frozen for at least two moments longer before he managed to slip out and under the cage of Bill's arms and stagger over to his laptop's new home in his living room.

He tapped mechanically at the equally mechanical keyboard, allowing clacking keys and bright pixels to provide a clean slate of a backdrop on which he could organize his tumultuous thoughts. Something had changed in his perception of Bill. The polygon made man(?) had begun acting differently, though the change was almost subtle. He was apologizing, which was what gave Dipper the most pause. He'd never expected to hear any words that even existed within the realm of 'I'm sorry' to come from that voice. One thing he thought he'd known to be an undeniable truth was that Bill was a remorseless monster. But not only had he apologized, he'd even tried to explain himself! Bill Cipher, who does whatever he wants and doesn't need a reason for it, had tried to explain his actions in a contrite manner. It was absolutely mind boggling. Sure, he still seemed like he had no problem spouting cruel things in the first place, but Dipper was starting to think that might stem from his complete lack of a filter. He couldn't imagine Bill ever really having to watch what he said, considering how often he must have been in a position of absolute power. Also from the fact that he was a massive sadist, but Dipper supposed that was more of a psychological issue than a personality flaw. But far be it from him to psychoanalyze the trillion years old Master of the Mind.

The other, slightly more unsettling issue was of a... physical nature. Dipper sucked in a deep breath, and decided that he'd accrued more than enough evidence supporting the theory that lying to himself wasn't going to help with anything. For some unfathomable reason, he found Bill fascinating to look at. And even beyond fascinating, he was... pleasing, to behold. Beyond his gnashing teeth and extraneous joints and multitude of fingers, he was... otherworldly. His hair shimmered like the sunset over rippling ocean waves, and his eye had the power to pull Dipper into another dimension of thoughtlessness. He wore his stupid suit like a second skin, and the way it accentuated sharp curves and stark lines was... well, Dipper wasn't sure if there was even a suitable word to describe it. All he knew was that he was attracted to his sister's murderer, and something was horribly wrong with him.

Something had been wrong with him for a long time, now. He couldn't even use Bright Eyes as an excuse for why he sequestered himself away, slowly but surely. That encounter had only driven things along further. It didn't explain why he drew away from the outside world in favor of trapping himself inside his own head, his only release coming in the form of writing his novels. Sitting in his room, twisting and blending his quiet thoughts into something that would hopefully make him feel fulfilled again. Thoughts that mingled and transformed into outlandish scenarios that felt more and more like true fiction with every day that he was parted from where he felt truly at home. Sometimes, he almost believed that Gravity Falls was nothing more than a dream; the whimsical imaginings of a lonely, socially awkward pre-teen. Of course, nothing could ever be that simple. Bill was proof enough of that. No matter how much Dipper hid in the dark, hands over his eyes and delusions pulled around him like armor, the demon was Always Watching. And that had almost become a comfort, at this point; knowing there was at least one entity there that wouldn't kill him, would talk with him, and keep him company. Even if it had practically destroyed whatever few fragments of life he had still been clinging onto.

"Did you find it yet, Pine Tree?" Bill dripped with amusement at the sight of his human startling out of his quiet contemplation with an unmanly yelp. He admired the stain of red that rose to Pine Tree's cheeks, linking together over the bridge of his nose.

Dipper rubbed at his face with one hand, as if to scrub away the fire that lived beneath his skin. "Y..yeah, it's um.." He squinted at the screen, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes. "It's called.. 'Jud Jubilee's Jersey Jamboree'. ...We don't even live in Jersey." Apparently strange naming conventions had followed him out of Gravity Falls as well. "Alright, it's only fortyish minutes away. I guess I can live with that."

"You'll be living with it whether you like it or not," Bill chirped cheerfully, and closed the laptop with his foot. Dipper was prepared to tell him off for putting his feet on the computer, but he was slightly preoccupied with not actually looking at said feet. Dipper was less than eager to discover how many toes the demon possessed. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go already!" Bill pounced for the front door, one hand going to twist the knob as Dipper fell after him and grasped his ankle.

Dipper spoke once he realized he hadn't bitten off his own tongue. "Bill, we still have to put clothes on! That's the whole reason we washed them in the first place, remember?" He and the demon locked eyes, and Bill slowly pulled his hand away from the door- before he began frantically twisting the lock. Dipper yanked on his ankle, and sent Bill crashing to the floor. Well, half on the floor and half on top of Dipper himself. He wheezed at the sudden pressure, clawing at the smooth wood floor in an attempt to drag himself out from under the unfairly heavy demon. Dipper didn't even understand why, considering he looked like he was literally skin and bones.

"Fine, fine! Yeesh, you don't have to assault me about it." Bill skittered over him like a startled arachnid, scaling up onto the back of the couch and perching there like a stone gargoyle. "Grab me something yellow!"

"Don't you only own yellow clothes?" Dipper questioned, slowly lifting himself off the floor and patting his torso to make sure none of his organs had burst. Once his was satisfied with the strucural soundness of his internal systems, he retreated upstairs and pretended like he didn't notice Bill's gaze branding into his back.

Eventually, after much arguing over what Bill would be wearing (You can't wear a suit to the fair, you're going to ruin it.) and counterarguments trying to undermine the previous arguments (Pine Tree, you clearly don't understand what it's like to possess class the way I do.), they made it out to the car. Dipper felt that same anxiety that infected him any time he even considered driving, but his clear (if short) track record of driving safely in recent times made him feel a little bit better. Regardless, his hands still shook as they locked on the steering wheel and felt around to shift the car into reverse, and his eyes were locked on the straight and narrow before they even started moving. He took some small comfort in the fact that Bill had apparently developed a preferred station to listen to; granted, it was screeching, roaring death metal, but at least he wasn't flipping between stations like a maniac. Dipper wasn't sure how much more he could have taken of that dreadful static. Even the day outside was fairly nice. Just overcast enough to provide ample shade, and just breezy enough to fight off the heat.

Maybe, Dipper dared to hope, today was going to be alright. 


	20. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be a bit slower for a while.

Surprisingly enough, the fun fair was absolutely packed to the gills. It flowed with the sludge of human consciousness, crowds pouring and shifting in every direction. Dipper was immediately stricken with an old, well worn fear. Crowds had never really been his forte; they were noisy, and hot, and easy to get lost in. And they had so many eyes with which to gaze upon him in scorn. He knew it was baseless and unfounded to think like that, but the fear lived on within him. A twisted part of him knew that he only wanted one being to watch him anymore. And that gaze currently flickered to every source of movement, stationed just above a grin filled with glee and skewering teeth.

Bill stretched his arms wide, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling loudly. "Wow, it's been a long time since I've seen so many gross, sweaty humans all packed together like this! Reminds me of the good old days in-"

"As much," Dipper interrupted, and ignored the put-out look he received, "as I would like to hear more about your tyrannical manipulation of early human civilizations, I'd really rather be able to ride something without throwing up."

"I dunno, sounds kinda funny." Bill raised a pair of placating hands when he earned a sizzling glare. "Kidding! Just kidding. Now, rides.. oh, let's go on that one!" He gestured wildly at the second largest and least likely to have passed a safety inspection ride in the entire fair, which was charmingly named 'THE DEATH HAMMER'.

"I thought you _weren't_ trying to kill me." Dipper tugged on Bill's elbow, pulling him into the crowds, where the demon's sheer size helped to cut a narrow swathe through the ocean of screaming children, irritated parents, and atrocious body odor. "Let's start with something simple. How about we go win some extremely rigged games?"

"Ohhh, cheating. I like it!" Bill exclaimed. He took point, spearing through the body blockades and screeching to a halt in front of a brightly decorated strength tester, beside which stood a typically seedy looking fair employee.

"Step up, step right up! Test your strength against Strongman Steve; beat his record and win a prize!" He gestured to a clear plastic barrel, which was filled with all manner of useless junk that was likely purchased from a local dollar store.

Dipper stared down the machine with fire in his eyes, and proceeded to try and roll up his sleeves. When his hand met bare arm, he remembered that he'd worn short sleeves. He ignored Bill's snicker, and approached to pick up the weighted mallet. "Watch and learn, Bill. There's a special trick to these. If you hit them in juuust the right spot..." He pulled the hammer back and swung it forward over his shoulder, slamming it into the target-

"RANK ONE: RUBBER NOODLE. TRY AGAIN, TOUGH GUY." The animatronic Strongman Steve laughed robotically, and creaked as it flexed ridiculous looking biceps. Dipper clenched his fists, liquid shame burning under his cheeks.

"Don't worry, Pine Tree; I've got this one." Bill patted his human on the shoulder, gently easing him out of the way before he grasped the handle of the hammer. He turned it over a few times, testing its weight and giving it a few practice swings. "Alright. One, two.." Bill swung with all his might, slamming the hammer into Strongman Steve's head and detaching it with a resounding 'THWACK'. It sailed off into the distance, and Bill laughed hysterically as he dragged off an open mouthed Pine Tree before the employee could recover from his shock.

Dipper regained his senses as they slipped off into the crowd, staring at Bill with complete incredulity. "Bill what were you thinking?! We can't just- break stuff! We'll get fined, or thrown out or something!"

"Aw, lighten up Pine Tree! It was just a little fun. Besides, did you see the look on that guy's face?" Bill's laughter redoubled at the thought, and Dipper found a slight smile tugging at his lips.

  
"Okay, I guess it was a little funny. And it could've been worse; at least you didn't knock the actual guy's head off." Dipper's smile grew at his own morbidity and the heightening pitch of Bill's laughter, and a breathy chuckle slipped from him without his say. "C'mon, let's find something that we can actually win."

"Ohh, let's get one of those horrible stuffed monstrosities! That one looks like a little Ghnar Bruksel right there." Bill gestured at a ball toss stand, and more specifically at a stuffed creature hanging on the rack of prizes. It had way too many eyes, and a lot of twisted looking limbs.

"I'm pretty sure that's not a real thing, but okay. There's a trick to these ones, too-" Dipper stumbled forward as the demon dragged him at an accelerated pace, parking them in front of the stand with a childish grin. Or, at the very least, a grin that would give children nightmares.

"ONE BALL, THANKS." Bill shouted much louder than was necessary before the stand's operator could even speak. The man glared at them from behind his comically bushy mustache, but handed over a single baseball in exchange for a ticket. "Alright Pine Tree, let me show you how it's done-" He launched the baseball at the stack of glass bottles, striking the top one so hard that the bottle shattered on impact. The ball kept going, rebounding off the wooden boards set up behind the bottles and sailing off into the air over their heads. "...I'm starting to sense a theme here."

Dipper's nervous grin looked more like a grimace, and he gently nudged Bill out of the way. He resisted the urge to quail under Mr. Mustache's stony glare, and offered up another ticket. "Uh. One ball, please?" He meekly accepted the one offered to him, and eyed one of the stacks of glass bottles. He reared back and hurled it, the baseball striking the wooden boards at an odd angle. It rebounded as well, cracking the stand operator in the back of the head. His eyes rolled back and he slumped to the floor, completely out cold. Bill stared in a stark mixture of shock and approval, at least until Dipper began gesturing wildly at him. "Grab your gross thing, hurry!" The demon leaned over the counter, snagging his 'Ghnar Bruksel' and high tailing it in the other direction with Pine Tree in tow.

"Wow, that was amazing! Your capacity for senseless violence has impressed me." Bill stuffed the plush monster in his pocket so that he could wrap an arm around Dipper's neck and tug him close. "You've done me so proud, Pine Tree."

  
Dipper struggled against the grip, a smile pulling even more insistently against his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. It's just a trick I learned a while ago. Alright, what are we doing next? I'd prefer we do something where you can't break part of the activity."

"I take back my pride in you," Bill sniffed disappointedly. "Fine, let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

Dipper made a face at the thought of fair foods. "First of all, gross, the food at these places is terrible. Second, we probably shouldn't eat until after we've ridden the rides we want to go on. I'd rather not pay for food just to puke it back up."

"But Piiiine Treeeeeeeee," the demon whined, flopping both arms around Dipper like fleshy pool noodles. "You have to feed me, or I might not have the strength to go any further!" He leaned more and more weight onto the human until the point where Pine Tree was stumbling backwards in his struggle to get away.

"Fine, fine! But don't come crying to me when you're emptying it all into a trashcan in half an hour." Dipper squinted at the signs littered around, and considered getting his prescription updated. But that sounded like a lot of work, and would likely involve leaving Bill alone for several hours. He'd live with it. "Okay, concessions are this way." He led the demon through a couple of stands, stopping near a little picnic style area with bathrooms and tables set up with a number of patrons already sat at them. Dipper fished in his wallet for a couple of bills, and prepared a lecture. "Okay, don't buy anything too heavy on the stomach; just get popcorn or something. Especially don't get cotton candy, because that stuff practically comes up while you're still eating i-" He blinked, noticing the lack of money in his hand and the lack of demon at his side. He heaved an explosive sigh, and decided that he at least deserved a snack for putting up with this.

They reconvened at an empty picnic table, Dipper nibbling on a soft pretzel while Bill's lanky arms were loaded with various foodstuffs. Dipper's eyes widened at the sheer variety, and he almost felt sympathy for the intense stomach pain that Bill was sure to experience in the near future. Almost.

"Wow, who knew you humans had such a disgusting assortment of foods for all occasions! Well, I mean.. me, obviously. But still!" Bill complimented around a mouthful of chili cheese dog, processed cheese substitute and processed mystery meat flying from his mouth as he spoke. Dipper grimaced, and edged a little further away.

"I don't know how you can stand to eat that stuff. It's like, ninety percent gelatin and preservatives. And probably cow hooves, or something." Dipper looked vaguely ill just from talking about it.

"Anything tastes good when you've never eaten before, Pine Tree." Bill took a particularly large bite, spraying the table with unidentifiable juices. "...'Good' might be a bit of a strong word, in this case."

"I'll say." Dipper threw some napkins at the mess on the table, half surprised they didn't sizzle away, or burst into flames. He watched with unabashed disgust and fascination as Bill finished off his hot dog, and began swirling french fries through his cotton candy. "Forget throwing up after the ride; I think I need to throw up right now."

"You're so sensitive, Pine Tree. It's just a bit of grease fried potato sticks with spun sugar." He stuck a fry coated in sticky, melting sugar in his mouth for emphasis. "C'mon, try one." Bill swirled up another one, leaning over the table to try and shove it in Pine Tree's mouth. He slapped away the hand that Pine Tree was attempting to slap his hand away with, and eventually managed to get it in his mouth during a particularly vehement protest.

Dipper chewed instinctively, and had no choice but to swallow with Bill's hand firmly placed over his mouth. He made a noise of disgust once it was removed. "Oh my god, that was.." he paused, and licked the back of his teeth. Sweet, salty, and starchy. "...Okay, it wasn't that bad," he admitted reluctantly, a half smile forming on his face as Bill cackled victoriously. "But now that I've discovered the secret to your confectionary concoction, you have no choice but to share it with me."

"Curses! You've foiled me again, you clever little ape." Bill swirled a few fries through his fairy floss, and tossed them at Pine Tree's head. He stared intently at the subtle curve of Dipper's pale, enamel abused lips. It'd been a long time since he'd seen a smile on them. The sight of it now was... it made something warm bubble in him, but that might have just been that mystery meat cylinder. Yeah, that was probably it. He studied how washed out Pine Tree looked in the sun; the lacking pigment in his skin, and the dullness of his hair. How pronounced the dark circles were under his sunken eyes, and how gaunt his face really was. He was like a palewood in the final fingers of autumn, and Bill wanted to... he wanted..

"You done eating?" Dipper watched curiously as Bill's eye swam back into focus, and the demon grew his signature grin. What could he have been thinking about?

"Sure am, let's go!" Bill leapt up from the table, snatching up his human by the arm and attempting to shove his thoughts into a deep crevice somewhere. "Let's go ride something, Pine Tree! Unless you'd rather go assault more people with baseballs."

Dipper flushed faintly, and it brought some life back to his face. Not that Bill cared, or anything. "No, I think my baseball battery days are done with. But.. are you _really_ sure you want to get on a ride after eating? You're not going to like throwing up, I can tell you right now." He stared impassively at the pout the demon directed at him for as long as he was able, before heaving a sigh and rolling his eyes. "Fine. But we're doing something else first, so you at least have time for your stomach to settle."

"What are we even gonna do? There's nothing interesting around except the rides- SPOOK HOUSE," Bill shouted much louder than he needed to, pointing at something off in the distance. Dipper rose on his toes to try and see over the crowd, but it didn't help very much. "Haha! You..." Bill paused, and considered his next move carefully. "...You're short!" He burst into laughter, and it continued even when Dipper gave him a shove as he passed.

"Just because you're freakishly tall doesn't mean I'm short. What did you see, anyway? A 'spook house'? You mean a haunted house, right?" Dipper began pushing his way through the crowd, making sure the snickering demon was following him.

"Yeah, whatever it's called. The dark building filled with fake skeletons or whatever. Those look HILARIOUS!" Bill tugged insistently on Pine Tree's arm, causing him to stumble as he was dragged along. They eventually emerged from the crowd to stop in front of a squat building painted with Halloween-esque cliches, in the form of bats, skeletons, grinning pumpkins, and ghoulish faces. "This is going to be so terrible," Bill practically squealed with excitement.

Dipper rolled his eyes at the sheer lacking quality of the haunted house, but decided to humor Bill. "Fine, we'll go in. It's going to be really boring, though; these things are designed to frighten children, not demons."

"That's the whole point, Pine Tree." Bill stared at him incredulously, as if wondering why that wasn't already apparent. "The way you humans envision horror is pathetically infantile, and only worth a laugh. But you and I... we know what real horror is, don't we?" Bill's eye locked in place with his own, and Dipper felt as if the entire world had darkened into oblivion. He stared into molten gold, breath sticking to the inside of his chest like plaque. And then the gaze was broken, light seeping back in and the sound of mingled voices rushing back in a thunderous wave. "Anyway, let's head inside!"

Dipper followed along on stiff legs as Bill pulled him in through the entrance to the haunted house, his ears ringing with phantom sound, and his eyes aching as colorful specters danced in the corners of his vision. The blessed darkness inside the attraction proved a soothing balm to his scorched retinas, and he blinked gratefully within it. "Isn't there supposed to be someone running this place?"

"Maybe they're on break," Bill replied dismissively. "You humans are champs at slacking off, let me tell ya. Always whining about how you can't build the pyramids within a week, and that Quetzalcoatl would be displeased with having triangles carved all over him, and blah blah blah. No wonder those guys got torn up by the Romans and conquistadors. Now THAT's the kind of zealousness I can get behind!" Bill paused in his ranting to inspect a cartoonish looking skull, which produced a very loud, poorly recorded cackle upon his approach. "...Okay, that's just kinda sad, actually."

"I told you-" Dipper was interrupted by the tinny screech of a vampire bat animatronic, which swooped overhead. "I told you it'd be disappointing. Maybe they at least have some of those funhouse mirrors, or something." He turned to walk off down a split in the path, gazing dispassionately at the gaudy nonsense that leapt out at him in the dark. He began slowing down as the rooms grew darker, taking care to not trip over anything as he navigated. "I'm not seeing anything. C'mon, let's get out of here." He turned-

-and saw empty air. "..Bill?" He hummed in irritation, peering around the corner of the path he'd just come from. Nothing. "Okay, hilarious. You're not going to scare me. So just come out so we can leave and do something else." Silence was the only reply. A crawling dread inserted clawed fingertips into the nodules of his spine, and the shadows cast upon the faces of poorly made animatronics suddenly seemed sinister. He came to the terrible realization that the dark around him was not like his own. It was piercing and malicious, crawling down his throat and obscuring his surroundings. He cursed at himself for acting so ridiculous; he was still in the same place, Bill was still here. He just... wasn't in earshot. He just needed to find the demon, find the exit, and leave.

The layout of the haunted house was... expansive. Much more so than he had first realized. He'd gone through at least a dozen fair sized rooms at this point, with no sign of Bill or the entrance. Not even an emergency exit, or maintenance door. All he saw was endless swathes of goblins and skeletons and vampires. He opened his mouth to call out for Bill, but froze as something touched the very fringes of his senses. A sound, he realized faintly, and strained to listen.

Wet, plodding, ponderous footsteps echoed from a fair distance away. Footsteps he would recognize even a thousand lifetimes from now. Dipper's breath caught on fish hooks, and he collapsed against the wall behind him. It was dead, he knew it was. He had its eyes in a jar on his desk. Yet still that old fear collected in his guts, converging right where he knew the root of his impurity had been. It weighed on him like liquid lead, causing his limbs to lock up into useless cadavers. Not that they would have been any use either way. His nightmare was here, it was walking around, looking for him so it could sear him into cinders, and he'd feel every moment of it. Dipper's body was wracked with tremors, and his chest tightened as he struggled to gasp for air. He could almost feel those fingers touching his face, prying open his mouth, digging into his eyes-

A piercing, howling wail of static echoed from every corner, and Dipper's frantic screams sang in harmony with it. He shrieked like he was being sawed into pieces, and it persisted long after the static had died away. He had enough sense of himself to cover his face with his hands, for all the good it would do. Only... his own hands were on the floor, lying like useless little ragdoll limbs.

"Pine Tree! Yeesh, you've been making a heck of a racket! Helped me find you, at least." Bill heaved a sigh of something at made his chest feel lighter, and loosened the bonds that had constricted around it when he'd lost sight of Pine Tree. He wasn't sure quite why he'd felt that way... it was probably just annoyance that his human had wandered off. That made perfect sense. "What was all the screaming about, anyway?" He raised an eyebrow when the only answer he got came in the form of a broken whimper. "Ohhh, the static. Right. Almost forgot about that! I think that was the uh... PA system. Probably broken, considering the state of this heap. Well, don't worry about a thing, because your good pal Bill is here to save the day!" He slowly slid Pine Tree up the wall, grasping firmly at his face. Once he was sure the human was settled on his feet, he stepped back and grinned brightly. "See? Good as new. Now let's get out of this place; it's significantly less entertaining than I thought it would be." Nothing. Complete silence on Pine Tree's end. "..You gotta say something sometime, you know. You can't ignore me again, I didn't do anything wrong-"

"Thank you." Dipper's voice broke, and shattered syllables rained in the space between them. Even in the dim lighting of the haunted house, Bill could see the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

"...Uh, you're welcome? I don't understand what I'm being thanked for. Unless it's a general 'thank you' for how amazing I am, in which case no thanks are necessary. Of course, if you have some more to offer as tribute, feel free-" Bill cut himself off with a grunt as a pair of skinny arms wrapped around his torso, and a wet face was pressed against the middle of his chest. "..Is this some sort of physical assault tactic? Because it isn't working very well."

"..T-thank you for coming back." Dipper sounded as though he were feeding the words through a wood chipper, though they somehow remained intelligible. Bill realized, with a strange sinking feeling in his chest, that this was how Pine Tree had sounded when he first arrived; broken, defeated, like he knew for certain that his inevitable death was coming soon.

"Why wouldn't I come back? I can't go anywhere without my favorite human, now can I?" Bill awkwardly placed a hand on top of Pine Tree's head, and felt a bizarre pang of disappointment that the rough fabric of a well loved hat wasn't there to greet him. That hat had been gone for years, but it had felt like such an integral part of what made him who he was. Like Bill's own hat, which he was loathe to part with at first. It seems they'd both shed parts of themselves. Bill carefully raised Pine Tree's head to meet his eyes, staring into the murky, watery depths of twin oceans of mud. He pressed a thumb against quivering lips, and they felt cool in comparison to his own skin. "..You're intoxicating in the dark, Pine Tree."

Dipper sucked in a breath, and secured it in his chest with a steel vice. He felt color splash across his face, but it was a sensation lost amongst a sea of gold. "I... o-only in the dark?"

Bill's lips twisted like black licorice. "Yeah. Because in the light..." He grasped Dipper's face with both hands, stroking at his jawline and cheekbones. "You're _breathtaking_." The demon felt something pulse wildly in his chest, battering into his ribcage. He wanted to rip it out, and watch Pine Tree _eat_ it.

Dipper's own heart had just about flatlined at Bill's breathy exclamation, mouth falling open as a digit pulled at his bottom lip. It sank past dry, cracked flesh and scraped over the edges of enamel. It pressed against a hot, moist sensory organ, which twitched and wriggled unconsciously. Dipper could taste grease and processed sugars permeated with something pleasantly bitter. Part of him was screaming about how unsanitary this was, but the rest of him was dazed and mesmerized by the flood of drool that Bill was milking from his mouth with just a single finger. Still that little voice screamed at him, and he gently furrowed his brow in confusion. He focused, and more screams joined it. His gaze flickered to the wall behind Bill, and the spell was broken. He removed the digit from his mouth with both hands, staring up at the demon in concern. "Do you hear people screaming?"

"Huh? Yeah, that's been going on for a little while. Something about a flyer?" Bill shrugged, looking slightly miffed. "You interrupted our little moment for that?"

"No- I mean, yes, but.. why would people be screaming about a flyer?" He dissipated the haze that had gathered inside his skull, and tried to puzzle out what was going on. "..." His eyes widened, lighting up with alarm like flashing klaxons. "Oh my god, they were saying  _fire_ , not flyer! Bill, we need to leave, _now_!" He slipped away from the cage of spindly limbs, grasping for one as he rushed down the hall. He could feel Bill stumbling after him. "Do you remember where the exit was?" He asked breathlessly, lungs already straining from the sudden exertion.

"Back the other way?" Bill ground them to a halt, keeping Pine Tree steady with one hand as the other pointed at the glowing 'FIRE EXIT' sign hanging above the door they'd been running away from.

"..." Dipper would have time to berate himself later. For now he settled with clumsily spinning on a heel, and yanking Bill along with him towards the exit. He released Bill's wrist in favor of fumbling for the handle, pushing with all his might. The door screeched and whined in protest, catching against the frame. "Are you kidding me this is a safety hazard _why hasn't anybody fixed this piece of trash_ -"

"Allow me." Bill rammed his bony shoulder into the door with all his might, producing a horrific popping sound, as well as the squealing and cracking of rusted hinges finally giving way. The door fell away from them, Bill giggling and clutching at his shoulder as Pine Tree pulled him outside.

The world was consumed by fire. Black smoke, grey ash, and orange flames surrounded them in a sea of calamity, the roaring infernos backed by the distant screams of those that hadn't yet made it out of the fair. The sky was dark with gathering storm clouds and billowing smoke. "Oh my god," Dipper breathed, eyes watering and face prickling from the sheer heat of the fires. "Let's go, let's _go_!" He grabbed Bill by the elbow, pulling him as fast as his legs could carry him. Months of little to no physical activity had left him weakened, and he was running short of breath before long. The demon had apparently noticed, for he stopped grabbing at his shoulder in favor of pulling Pine Tree along himself. Luckily the fairgrounds were fairly open, so they managed to stray away from most of the fires while maintaining course.

The parking lot was empty when they made it, save for Dipper's car parked near the back. They stopped on the edge of the asphalt, Dipper bending over to pant for air and brace himself against his knees. When he managed to reel back his breath from where it had been hibernating, he straightened up, and turned to gaze upon the raging fire. He could already hear sirens in the distance, coming to control and extinguish the flames. "Oh my god.." he repeated, unsure of what else to say.

Bill apparently had no such trouble, for he parted his grin to speak nigh instantaneously afterwards. "Well, at least we won't get fined for the stuff we broke. Could be worse, right?" He grinned winningly, and then the sky chose that moment to tear itself asunder and rain a torrential downpour upon them.

Dipper stared at Bill's grinning visage, the demon standing tall and crooked. One arm hung limply, and his hair was mussed and sweaty from running, and the heat of the fire. The rain soaked his clothes near immediately, and they clung to him in planes and wrinkles. One golden eye shined down at him, and saw right through him. Dipper grasped his face with both hands, pulling him to eye level.

Dipper pressed his mouth against cold lips, but they burned hotter than any fire ever could.


	21. Sight

The smell of smoke clung to their clothes, and filled the space between them with a bitter, acrid scent. The car ride had passed in a muddled streak of color and sound, and the keys shook in Dipper's hand as he unlocked the front door. Bill slammed the door shut behind them, grasping at Dipper's face and throat with both hands. The twinging ache in his shoulder was stubbornly ignored. He pressed his face into sweaty locks dusted with ash, and inhaled. "You smell like unmaking, Pine Tree." He whispered the words with a strange reverence, massaging a convulsing throat with a pair of digits. "Like a summer wildfire."

Dipper bit his lip, in part to chase away the shocked numbness that had settled in them, and in part because he had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. He simply allowed Bill to manipulate him as he pleased, heart fluttering like a leaf in a windstorm.

"Fires rage, smoke in the air, amongst the whimpering pine. Forests die, I do not care, for I know you'll still be mine." Bill breathed the words into his Pine Tree's scalp. His fingers caressed teeth through the thin membrane of gaunt cheeks, and traced a bobbing adam's apple.

Dipper swallowed a mouthful of gravel, daring to reach up and grasp at Bill's wrists. He did nothing with them, simply holding on to anchor himself to reality. "..That one was kinda heavy handed, huh?"

Bill laughed, high and crackling. "What can I say? I like to get my point across." Bill began advancing, forcing Pine Tree backwards with each step. Before long the back of Dipper's legs were hitting the edge of the couch, and he slowly lowered himself down to sit. The demon straddled him like a 1940's pin-up model would a bullet, hands resting on Dipper's tensed thighs. He stared, dazed, at the uncanny imitation of humanity, and reached up to touch it in disbelief.

"...How do they not notice?" Bill looked as surprised by the question as Dipper felt about asking it. But now that it was out in the air, he had no choice but to follow up. "Th.. that you aren't human. Not really."

Bill grinned wide enough to swallow the world. "That's the beautiful thing about you humans. They only see what they want to see, and ignore everything else. Even when I'm staring them right in the face.." He leaned in, eye burning through everything Dipper clung to, and identified as. "..They still don't see me. But I see EVERYTHING. And you, my Pine Tree..." He leaned in closer, until their noses were brushing together. All Dipper could see was gold and milky white. "You only see what I want you to," Bill breathed, and brushed what should have been thumbs over Pine Tree's eyelids.

Dipper closed his eyes instinctively as Bill's malformed digits approached, and shivered at the caress they delivered to his concealed eyeballs. His heart thudded irregularly, in the manner it always did when Bill spoke in such serious tones. He barely even registered the words themselves, lost as he was in their resonance. When they did finally click, he figured that he should feel affronted. He might have, at one time. But now... it didn't really matter, did it? He'd seen so many things already; a number of which he wished he could un-see. But there was nothing left anymore. It was easier to just let Bill be his eye. It was easier to give in.

"...What do you want from me?" He thought it a pertinent question to ask. Clearly things had changed between them, if the sudden switch in Bill's behavior was any indication. He didn't quite feel like a victim, anymore. Sure, he had been brutally victimized at the demon's hands, but... it was different now, right? Things were better? He didn't know what to think, anymore. It was so much easier not to think at all.

  
"Everything." Bill's hands trailed down a pliable face, soft and gaunt and sprinkled with whiskers that bent easily under his fingertips. "I want to see you smile. I want to see you break. I don't know which is more important." He easily grasped and pulled forth the warm tingling feeling he had experienced at the sight of one of Pine Tree's nigh extinct smiles.  _He_ had done that. _He_ had made that happen. And it was a satisfaction that he'd never felt before. He'd never had anybody genuinely laugh or smile in his presence before. He wanted more. But watching Pine Tree fall apart, his shards littering the floor, mingling with sparkling tears... it awoke that familiar darkness in his chest. That vicious delight he got from hurting, maiming, destroying. Only... it was colored with something else now. Something unpleasant and festering, that made him feel worse than he ever had. Bill hated it beyond anything. It had to be this ape brain. Primitive chemicals were twisting him and changing him without his notice. That's all it was, he told himself.

"I think you already have everything," Dipper responded shakily. He felt... numb, almost. As if everything inside him had locked up like broken gears. But there was still the feeble grinding that kept him from completely shutting down. He was still alive, still breathing. He didn't know if that was something to be relieved about. "..We should do something about your shoulder," he attempted desperately to switch the demon's focus. He felt both grand and insignificant beneath that unending gaze, and he just wanted to not exist at all. If Bill stopped looking at him, he could at least delude himself a little longer.

"You're probably right about that," Bill chirped, the sheer intensity of his stare fading away. He patted Pine Tree on the cheek before climbing off, and rubbing at his injured shoulder. "Think I cracked something on that door. As hilarious as it is, being in pain for an extended period of time sounds pretty annoying."

Dipper frowned, rolling up Bill's sleeve to get a better look at his shoulder. It was horribly discolored, already blossoming with purple-black bruises. It provided a disgusting contrast to his sickly skin tone. "Hmm. It looks pretty bad. I hope it isn't fractured." He prodded gently at the bruises, and recieved a hiss of giggles. That was a little unsettling, but okay. "I don't... _think_ it's fractured, but you might have bruised the bone. We should probably ice it, to reduce the swelling."

"Whatever you say, nurse Pine Tree." Bill inspected his bruises, looking fascinated by the discoloration. He thought about how much better it'd look on Pine Tree, but the thought of applying them himself unearthed that strange, unpleasant twisting in his gut. He thought of how beautiful his human would look, splashed with purples and yellows and greens. But he also imagined the mask of hurt that Pine Tree would wear, and the pain that would be hidden behind deadened eyes.

Dipper sputtered indignantly, ignorant to Bill's deeper thoughts. "Why do I have to be a nurse?" It was an instinctual defense, built up from years of enduring familial ribbing from his sister. The thought made him ache with yearning, and his eyes dulled as his momentary resurgence of spirit drained to nothing.

Bill could see the change in Pine Tree's demeanor, even though he wasn't completely sure what might have caused it. "It's because human doctors are either old and wrinkly, or unrealistically handsome. I'd say you're more pretty than handsome, and thus you are delegated to the role of nurse."

Dipper might've blushed at the frankly embarrassing compliment, but his blood was already stilling into stagnant sludge. Numbness crept through him, and he averted his eyes lest Bill's gaze tear right through him. "I'll get an ice pack," he murmured, leaving the demon to stand, perplexed, in the middle of the living room.

The ice pack was cold when Bill was instructed to hold it against his arm, but colder still was the look in Pine Tree's eyes. 


	22. Deceit

The Mindscape wrapped Dipper in a cold, suffocating embrace of blank endlessness. He stared off into the empty grey blur that resided beyond his crumbling walls, and idly wondered why he had been brought back here. Bill clearly wanted something from him, but his vague responses were frustrating, and gave Dipper little indication of the demon's actual desires. He didn't seem as intent on causing mental and emotional anguish as when he first arrived, and Dipper was as grateful for the reprieve as he was confused by it.

"Wow. It uh.. sure is getting a bit dilapidated in here, huh?" Bill swaggered through the room, triangular pupil swiveling wildly to take in every detail of the deteriorating Mindscape. There was less floor space then there had been last time, and the walls looked even less stable. Every manifestation of memory was covered in a fine layer of dust, and he wiped some off of Journal 3. it left a visible streak behind, and Bill wrinkled his nose. "I think you need to hire a maid, Pine Tree."

"Sure, let me just look online for a maid capable of travelling into my mind when I sleep," Dipper responded in a bone dry tone. He was sat upon his unmade bed, which seemed a little more rumpled than usual. The blankets and sheets were a little more threadbare, and the pillows were faded and lumpy. The mattress creaked in abject protest at the slightest movement as Dipper climbed off it, bare toes pressing against unpolished hardwood. At least he'd remembered to get undressed before going to bed, this time. He turned his tired gaze on Bill, who appeared to be inspecting something closely. "Why are we here?"

The demon started, whirling around with a grin plastered on his face. "Gettin' existential on me, Pine Tree? Well, as a (mostly) omniscient being, I can tell you for sure that nothing matters or happens for a reason, and everything anyone ever does is pointless."

Dipper merely shrugged at Bill's bleak, nihilistic outlook. He'd already come to terms with all of that. Or had at least acknowledged it for all of a moment before shoving the thought out of the way. "You know that isn't what I meant. Why are we in the Mindscape?" He watched as Bill fidgeted guiltily, and figured he must have misinterpreted it. There was no possible way Bill could feel guilt in any capacity.

"Well," Bill began, before immediately coming to a halt. He pursed his lips in thought, before apparently finding the proper words. "I wanted to cheer you up," he blurted, looking almost surprised by what had come out of his mouth. He easily read Pine Tree's incredulous expression, and raised two hands defensively. "Hey, I'm serious, here! I told you that hurting you is getting boring, so I'm turning things around for a bit. What better place to do that than the Mindscape, right? Here, you like reading things, right?" Bill snapped his fingers, and a large tome dropped into Pine Tree's grasp. It was bound by living, pulsing flesh, and a yellowed eye stared balefully up at the human.

"...Why is it alive?" Dipper questioned carefully. He carefully flipped over the front cover, grimacing at the feeling of sickly warm skin. At least the pages looked like they were made of actual parchment. Only.. everything in the book was written in violently scratched, inhuman symbols. He couldn't tell if it was ink or not, and it was impossible to decipher. "And what is it written in?"

"Oh, right, you can't read that. My bad!" Bill grinned, a trickle of nervousness seeping into the expression. He snapped his fingers again, and the symbols inside became poorly spelled, horrifically translated middle english.

"This is... almost less comprehensible, actually." Dipper squinted down at the pages, flipping through them for something that made sense. There were words that stuck out that he recognized, but they were ordered so strangely that no coherent thought was produced by their combinations.

Bill bit his lip, glancing back and forth suspiciously. "You know... this language translates REALLY well into Cambodian. How about we just-" He raised his hand to snap his fingers, only to be halted by a pointed look from Pine Tree.

"You don't have infinite knowledge in the Mindscape, do you?" Dipper closed the tome, carefully avoiding the eye embedded in the cover. He set it aside, where it dissolved into scraps of paper and floated off on a nonexistent breeze. He approached the demon, who began backing himself into where a corner should have been. Dipper didn't really think he was acting in a particularly aggressive manner; he just wanted to know.

"Well, I mean, technically.." Bill considered wheedling until Pine Tree gave up his questioning, but figured that it was only a matter of time until the kid figured things out. He was still pretty sharp, after all. "..Fine, yes. Your primitive primate brains couldn't fit an infinite amount of knowledge in their squishy grey matter, so I had to compromise. I did what I could to increase the usable storage space, but I could only fit in the bare essentials. Some human history, some languages, everythingtoeverdowithyou," Bill coughed out that last spurt of words.

Dipper's eyes widened, even though he knew he shouldn't be surprised. He'd have to be blind to not notice the demon's intense fixation on him. He just didn't understand _why_. The demon went on and on about him being fascinating, a worthy opponent.. but that felt like it was scratching the surface of something embedded much deeper. Sure, he'd outsmarted the demon twice. Only... Bill had easily overpowered everything they'd done in Stan's Mindscape. He could have destroyed them in an instant, but he chose to leave on his own. And when Bill had taken his body... there was no possible way that he'd never tricked a human out of their body before then. He _had_ to have known he'd be banished if his vessel fell unconscious. So.. why would Bill purposefully sabotage himself? Dipper supposed he didn't have any reason to stick around after Gideon had called off the deal, but Bill definitely didn't seem the type to leave loose ends lying around. He could have tied their knot anytime, but deliberately chose not to. Bill was... Dipper just.. "I don't understand you."

"Whaddya mean? I'm speaking plain English here, Pine Tree. I mean, I could've said something like, oh, I dunno.. DTZ RFPJ RD MJFWY MZWY FSI N ITS'Y PSTB BMD. Just for example, random example." Bill spoke the garbled jumble of letters with an unbroken flow, as if he'd practiced saying it before. Dipper wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean. More Nightmare language, maybe? Only... that had sounded entirely inhuman and otherworldly. This at least sounded like real letters.

"No, I mean... well, yes, I don't understand you when you speak nonsense. But I meant your motivations. Why you care about anything involving me at all. I mean, according to you, I ruined the apocalypse." Dipper wasn't sure how you could 'ruin' the end of the world, but that wasn't important at the moment. "And you also said you'd been planning to enact it for millennia. But your revenge... it doesn't make any sense. You make me go shopping, go out to dinner, go to a fair... it's like you're dating me, or something." Dipper forced back the completely irrational and juvenile flush that threatened to rise to his face. This was a demon. A _murder_ demon.

"Dating?" Bill looked affronted at the very thought, and then looked mildly confused a moment later. "That's the thing where humans mash faces and buy each other expensive garbage, right?" Bill frowned. Pine Tree had certainly bought him expensive objects, and had pressed their faces together after they escaped the fire... "WAIT DID YOU TRICK ME INTO DATING?!"

"W-what? No! No, I didn't-" Dipper waved his hands in the vain hope of defending himself from the waves of incredulity and anger that emanated from the demon.

"YOU TRICKED ME! YOU, WITH YOUR STUPID FACE, SOMEHOW MADE ME MAKE YOU BUY ME THINGS, AND YOU- YOU DID THE MOUTH THING!" Bill pointed as many accusing fingers at Pine Tree as he was able, and the floor beneath the human's feet split apart to reveal a sea of hands, which dragged him, screaming, towards Bill. "You... you SNIVELLING LITTLE WEEVIL, HOW DARE YOU TRY AND ENSNARE ME IN YOUR HUMAN MIND PRISON!" He raised his voice further to be heard over Pine Tree's loud and unimportant objections. "You don't seem to understand, Pine Tree..." He loomed, his pale shadow falling over the prone human, "YOU BELONG TO ME! AND NO AMOUNT OF HUMAN ENTRAPMENT RITUALS AND WEIRD CHEST FEELINGS ARE GOING TO CHANGE THAT!" Bill snapped his fingers-

Dipper woke to the sound of shattering glass. 


	23. Shards

Bill needed a knife. He had tumbled off the couch the moment he'd forcibly terminated the Mindscape session, and had skittered onto all fours. He wasted no time in tearing his way through the house, checking for loose floorboards and secret compartments. He checked under couch cushions, inside of shoes (the sight of a pair of tennis shoes with little bows sewed onto them gave him pause for a fraction of a second), and behind the television. He'd thought those were all reasonable places to hide a knife, but he should have known that Pine Tree would be smarter than that. He thought of the little razor up in the bathroom, but discarded the thought. He needed something bigger. But it seemed he was out of luck in that department.

Only... didn't humans use knives for food preparation? Bill shot up like a meerkat, head swivelling towards the kitchen. Fingers and toes met frigid tile, before grasping hands began ripping open cabinets and drawers. Ceramic, glass, and assorted metals clinked and clanged and scraped as the determined demon dug through them. Something tipped out of the cabinet, bouncing off the counter and shattering on the floor. Bill simply avoided the shards of glass that littered the ground, and continued his search.

Dipper fell out of bed as soon as he was fully conscious. It didn't take long, considering the panic that shot through him like liquid fire. He forwent pants, finding them to be unnecessary in this grave state of emergency, and raced out of his bedroom. He nearly tripped on his way down the stairs, catching himself on the bannister and pausing for all of a moment to calm his thundering heart. He sucked in a breath, prepared to yell out the demon's name-

Dipper turned the corner around the stairs, and saw the vaguely blurry image of Bill raising a carving knife into the air, with his other hand splayed out on the counter. "BILL OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU _DOING_ -"

Bill jumped in shock, dropping the knife and instinctually yanking his hand away as it clattered to the counter. Once he'd gathered himself, he turned a vicious snarl on Dipper, looking truly demonic. "What do you THINK I'm doing, Pine Tree? I have to cut off my binding finger, so you can't put one of those diabolical bands around it and control me with it!" He whirled back around to grab the knife, but was interrupted as a pair of hands wrapped around his arm and yanked it backwards. "RELEASE ME, YOU MORTAL FIEND!"

Dipper struggled to contain the thrashing demon, who was a lot stronger than his skeletally thin frame suggested. He grappled with Bill, fingers attempting to pry the handle of the knife away from his grasp. "Bill I'm not trying to _trap_ you what are you _talking_ about!?"

"WHAT ELSE WOULD YOU BE DOING?!?!" Silence rang out, riding the echoes of Bill's frantic scream. He stared down at Dipper, desperate mania swimming in his eye. He slowly unwrapped his fingers from around the knife, and it hit the counter. "I.. why else would you be making me feel like this?"

"Like- like what? How am I making you feel like anything?" Dipper stared into the chaotic cesspool of Bill's entrancing pupil, and saw a true lack of understanding lurking within. "What are you feeling?" He found his voice lowering in volume, becoming something hushed and intimate.

"I don't KNOW," Bill mumbled, more quietly than Dipper had ever heard him speak before. "You... when I'm around you, I feel... weird. I feel warm, and squirmy. But also like something is horribly wrong with me. There's a terrible pinching in my gut that makes me nauseous, especially when I think about... what I did." He awkwardly skirted around mentioning Shooting Star directly, and wasn't sure why. Sure, Pine Tree had asked him not to talk about her, but _why did he care_?

Dipper closed his eyes for a moment, and in that brief span of time an ocean of feeling flooded him. It pulled him under with a riptide, and filled his lungs with stinging saltwater. But when he opened them again, it was all evaporated by burning gold. "..You're feeling guilt, Bill," he whispered. "You feel bad about what you did, because subconsciously you know it wasn't a good thing to do. It's a normal human emotion."

"Well I don't WANT it! How do I get rid of it?" Bill looked truly desperate in that moment, staring with a pathetically imploring expression, as if he truly believed something was wrong with him, and only Dipper could fix it.

"You can't. You have to live with it, unless you want to get out of your vessel." Dipper was suddenly overcome with panic at the thought. The idea of Bill killing off his body and leaving to reinhabit the Nightmare realm was... he'd be left all alone, alone with the weight of his sister's corpse on his shoulders, and he couldn't tell anyone, he'd never be able to explain it properly, it was _all his fault_ \- "D...don't do that."

"I couldn't, even if I wanted to," Bill spat sourly. "This isn't like a regular body; I can't be forced out of it by any means except death. But because of that.. I can't leave of my own will, either. I'm stuck with this meat hunk until it expires. Which I guess means I'm stuck with these disgusting human chemical reactions, too."

Dipper smiled up at the demon, and felt something shatter inside of him. The last bastion of resistance was broken, and he truly had nothing left but himself to give. "If it helps... I like you better this way." It was the most bitter truth that had ever escaped his tongue, and he calmly accepted the burn that seared all the way down his throat.

"I... wha-" Bill stepped away, and tore asunder their little bubble of intimacy. He slapped on a grin, and nerves bled through his teeth. "That's a good one, Pine Tree! Really took the whole comic thing to heart, huh? Y-you uh.." he backed up further, grin twitching with instability. "Y..you CAN'T like me, Pine Tree! I know you're scrambled in the head, but I destroyed your life! You're supposed to HATE me!"

A smile that somehow tugged downward at Dipper's lips oozed into place. As it bubbled forth, all the light in his eyes drained away. "Why be upset about something if you can't do anything about it, right? There's no point in hating you. It doesn't get me anywhere. It doesn't fix anything. It doesn't make me feel better. So... why bother?" Dipper's voice was soaked in potent, listless defeat. It cracked like fine china under the hooves of a rampaging bull, and his expression was as fragile as butterfly wings.

"..I really messed you up, didn't I?" Part of Bill swelled up with malicious pride at the thought that he had caused this break in Pine Tree's psyche, but it was swiftly deflated by a volley of piercing pin cushions. Guilt. He was feeling guilt for his actions. It ripped and tore at his insides without mercy, and Bill felt almost as if he were being compelled by some outside force to rest his hands on Pine Tree's shoulders. He wasn't sure if he was meant to squeeze them, or pull this broken thing against him, or...

Dipper shook his head, smile as violently unstable as arcs of electricity. "I was already cracking, Bill. Then Bright Eyes came along, and you..." He laughed, dry and crumbling. "Well... dust is just smaller shards, right?"

"I wasn't lookin' to pulverize you," Bill muttered, and gave in to the compulsion to pull Pine Tree against his chest. "...I don't know what to do. I can't make you what you were again; it doesn't work like that. And there's no fun to be had with a broken toy."

"The point of something being broken is that it's useless. Just throw me away, Bill. Move on to something worth your time." Dipper felt as though he were swimming through molasses. Everything felt hazy and sluggish. There was... he needed to keep Bill around to do something. To protect someone. But he was too tired to think, now. He just wanted to sleep.

Bill sighed, and pressed his nose into limp locks of hair. "If I can't make you what you were, I'll make you something new. Nothing is broken if you know what to do with it, right? Besides, putting things together can't be that much different from destroying them." A silence descended for all of a moment. Bill breathed in the smell of dead forest, and murmured under his breath.

"I am the sun; you are the moon. We meet one night; midsummer June. I shine strong; you shimmer free. Reflecting my rays; right back at me. When the stars align; it's said to be true. That while you are my mirror; I shine only for you."


	24. Desire

"...You're an awful poet," Dipper said at last. The silence that had enveloped them felt as if it had veiled them for all eternity. He was almost surprised that the world beyond the two of them still existed when he next opened his eyes. The flood of numb liquid in his chest oozed out to occupy his limbs as well, and he relished the opportunity to simply... stop holding himself up. He leaned into Bill's torso, and barely bothered to breathe.

"Hey, I'd like to see YOU come up with poetry on the spot!" Something light and freeing occupied Bill's chest, in place of the creaking weight that had previously resided there. Relief. He was relieved that the tension had been broken. He resolved to put a proper name to every strange, unfamiliar, (KWNLMYJSNSL) new emotion that cropped up. He'd simply have to stop being so (FKWFNI) reluctant to ask Pine Tree for help. The human wasn't a threat anymore. He was completely harmless, and Bill needed to take advantage of that.

"I guess you've got a point." Dipper struggled to keep his eyes open, an irrational part of him fearing that were he to embrace darkness, he'd be lost to oblivion for all of time. He just... needed to think. Even though it was easier not to. Even though all he wanted to do was sleep forever. "You... we have new information, now. The next step is figuring out what to do with it. What you _want_ to do with it."

"Worried about what I want, Pine Tree? How thoughtful!" Bill let a grin crack his face, even though Pine Tree wasn't looking up at him. "I mean, obviously what I want is to rip out these superfluous feelings and throw them in a river, but that's not really an option. And I can't make myself not feel... guilty, because I can't turn back time and undo what I did. That's a different guy." Bill considered rambling on further, but realized that there was no point in doing so. He wasn't monologuing, in an effort to induce shock and terror. He wasn't yammering, in an attempt to disarm and deceive. He wasn't wheedling, in a ploy to buy time and formulate a plan. He didn't need to do any of that with Pine Tree. Not anymore. Not like it used to be. When he really thought about it, nothing was like it used to be. He'd jumped into this mess practically blind, instead of carefully planning and mapping and deliberating over his exact moves and motives. Everything was new, and confusing, and... (XHFWD) different. He didn't know how to feel about it, anymore. "Anyway, let's switch gears for a moment. What do YOU want, Pine Tree?"

"You don't care what I want," was the automatic response. But even as it left Dipper's tongue, he was unsure of how true it really was. Recently, the demon had been showing actual concern towards him. Sure, he was still clearly selfish and only doing things for his own benefit, but it seemed like that benefit was peace of mind more than anything, at least in a few cases. Bill had even admitted to wanting to cheer him up. He'd said it was because he was bored, and Dipper doubted the truth in that as well. When Bill Cipher was bored, people were hurt and twisted and broken. But what came after that?

"Of course I care about what you want! If I didn't know, how could I make sure to do the exact opposite to annoy you?" Bill's teasing grin held none of the malicious undertones that normally lurked in such an expression. For a moment, he could almost be mistaken for a friend.

Dipper laughed in response, and it surprised the both of them. The sound was short and dry, but it was coated in sincerity. Dipper fought the heat rising to his face, and regained control of his limbs. He put a fair amount of distance between himself and the demon, avoiding eye contact. "I, uh. I really don't know what I want."

Bill could taste the fumes of blatant untruth that billowed through the air. "Right, like I'd believe that. Try to remember who you're talkin' to, next time you wanna pull a white lie. Tell me what you want, Pine Tree. I KNOW that you know, and WE both know that you're going to tell me eventually, so just spit it out."

Dipper sucked in a breath, and felt the words within screeching against their bonds. He wanted to belt them out, wanted to make them a reality. Even though he knew there wasn't any point, the desire burned him inside and out. Bill was looking at him with such intensity, patient and expecting and- there was no judging. No ridicule. No bottled laughter, waiting to spring forth at the sound of his stupid desires. The impulse boiled and frothed, and the words were already spilling out of his mouth. "I want-" He choked them back, chomped the bit and forced the words into the abyss that resided within him. There wasn't any point. There was nothing to be done. Dipper just wanted to sleep.

"C'mon, Pine Tree. Tell me." Bill stalked forward, grasping a clammy face in his hands and tilting it upwards. He stared down into eyes muddled by grief and exhaustion and despair, blurring with tears and rimmed with red and underlined by black bags. He never wanted to look away from them. "I can't give you what you want unless you TELL me."

Dipper choked on his next breath, and a sob was its replacement. The banks overflowed and tears streaked freely down his face. "I-I know... I know you c-can't bring her back." He resisted the urge to wipe at his face, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to clear his vision. "I just don't want it to hurt anymore. I want you to make me feel better."

"...Yeah. Yeah, I think I can work with that." Bill did his best not to reveal how utterly stunned he was by the admission. He'd expected a plea for the return of Shooting Star, or a demand for his immediate departure. But this was... unexpected. Pine Tree really wasn't lying about not hating him. The kid was so broken up that he went to his sister's own murderer for comfort. It made something pleasant blossom inside of Bill, warming his chest cavity and causing his limbs to tingle. But beyond it was the sour rot of guilt, poisoning everything he did. But it wouldn't stop him this time. "Let's see what we can do about this mess, huh Pine Tree?" Bill's grin twisted from end to end, revealing flashes of solid enamel behind lifeless lips.

Bill hunched over, and pressed those lips against ones stained with the salt of misery.


	25. Rip and Tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content in this chapter.

  
Dipper couldn't think anymore. Thoughts circled in endless loops of scattered light, blinking and flaring and signaling to no avail. His skull was a tree hollow, and Bill's influence had firmly nested within. Tendrils of something frighteningly alluring infected his mouth through their pressed lips. He wanted more. They squirmed through his pulsing insides and constricted the pitted stones that had replaced his organs until sensation returned. He could feel life once more, brought to him by the harbinger of his death. He had no doubts that he would die at Bill's hands. There was no other course through which the river of time could flow. This was too deeply rooted. But Dipper didn't care about that. He didn't care about anything anymore.

Dipper embraced the demon as if he were someone to treasure, feeling jutting bones through thin cotton. He wanted those bones to grind his own into dust. Just like his will. Just like his drive. Just like everything that had made him who he was. Dipper didn't know who he was, anymore. Certainly not the thoughtful, awkward, studious, courageous boy he had once been. Dipper was dead and buried. But the insecurity, the fear, the doubt remained. The pieces of himself that had been shoved aside into a deep and forgotten crevice still existed. And now, with everything else turned to ash, they were the only things that he could put back together. Dipper was dead. But maybe Landrin could find a new life, in this bleak world.

Bill knew without a doubt that something had changed in those few precious moments, where he melded his toothy maw against something soft and sweet. He wasn't sure what, but it was certainly (HTSHJWSNSL) something to dig his fingers into. He'd pull Pine Tree apart like sweet fruit flesh, and find the black seeds concealed within. But to reach the treasured internals... he had to peel away the skin. He ceased their face mashing, and huffed a short breath against trembling lips. "Reality is a manifestation of the mind, Pine Tree. What say we delude ourselves with something worth believing in?"

Landrin whimpered like the pathetic mongrel he was before the suggestion could even fully register. Everything that he pretended existed was a product of his ailing mind. The only things that truly existed were himself and Bill. The both of them were dreamers, lost in a waking world. Landrin just wanted to sleep. He pulled Bill away from the counter, awkwardly stepping them backwards towards the couch. He fell back and wheezed under the weight of the walking corpse that caged him in. He caught Bill's eye, and let it swallow him. "Take me away from here," he begged, and pulled a head of shimmering hair against his chest. He closed his eyes, and waited for oblivion to drag him down, down, down.

Bill awoke in the Mindscape, and found himself (INXYZWGJI) surprised by the change in decor. Only one wall still stood, situated behind a pristine bed. The scarce few pieces of furniture were left completely bare, except for a single nightstand. On it was a slender tophat, with a medical eye patch fixed around it. Pine Tree was splayed out on the bedspread, staring expectantly at him. "I like what you've done with the place! Very, uh... clean." He ceased glancing around, feeling (ZSXJYYQJI) disinterested. His whirling pupil locked onto the mementos that, without a doubt, represented himself. It made pride swell within him, inflating until it was fit to burst. A crackling warmth burned beneath it, filling him with an odd heat. He stared down the murky eyes that looked so imploringly at him. "What do you want, Pine Tree? Use your words."

"Please," Landrin just about panted out the word, feeling something tighten in the pit of his gut at Bill's sinewy purr. "I want you to rip and tear," he pleaded, rucking off his shirt and exposing his stomach.

Bill's face split apart into crescent needles, and he felt that old, dark desire flare like a supernova. The sight of unmarred flesh, pale and tempting, drove him into a familiar sort of madness. He stalked like the shadow of death, drinking in every tremble and shudder that emanated from the willing body before him. He felt something animalistic awaken in his loathsome primate brain, and for once it didn't elicit disgust. He was fairly sure his pants were supposed to fit more loosely. "I'll leave you in pieces," he intoned, loping up onto the bed and falling on all fours.

Landrin watched with a peculiar sort of excitement as his butcher neared, fingers clenching and unclenching in the bedspread. He gazed up into burning gold and a familiar triangular malice, and bucked his hips uselessly into open air. He managed half a plea before sixteen fingers were tracing at his belly, nails leaving streaks of red behind their looping patterns. He held his breath, and it left him in a throaty groan as they begin tearing into him. Flesh parted like clay beneath nimble digits, and the sweet sensory data sent Landrin into a burning ecstasy. He felt no pain; only the manipulation of skin and fat and muscle, fingers burrowing and stimulating internal nerves and pushing into him. "Please please please," he begged, as grasping hands fell wrist deep into his abdomen. They pulled and pressed and prodded at delicate organs, stimulating nerves that had never had need to send impulses before. "More, more!" He cried. He wanted to be ripped free of the rotten flesh that constructed what he used to be; he wanted to shed his carapace, so that something new and whole could emerge.

"How scandalous, letting me finger your delicates like this," Bill murmured, low and shadowed. He pressed a knee between shaking legs and observing curiously as Pine Tree ground himself against the pronounced bone. Strangely, Bill felt the same desire, as his reproductive organ throbbed uncomfortably. He absently stroked fragile organ tissues, slowly working his way up to the ribcage. He'd left handfuls of Pine Tree scattered on the bedspread, and admired greatly the way color slowly drained from them, scarlet blood fading into dark greys. But the vivid color of intestines and gastric sacs and blood tubes was even more pleasing to the eyes. Bill wished he had a camera, but he knew the pictures would develop just as colorless as everything else. He much preferred the live, pulsing version in front of him.

"Bill!" Landrin choked out, sweet and crumbling. He panted as searching fingers grasped at his ribs, and felt the shift in his spine as they were manipulated. He pressed himself against Bill's knee, dragging up and down to try and produce more friction. The slide of soft cotton contrasting with hard bone was maddening. He could feel tightening tension in what remained of his guts, and moans slipped freely from his open mouth.

Bill's eyes widened at the sound of his name on Pine Tree's tongue, so pathetic and wanting. He twitched in his pants, and fumbled to pull them off with a blood slicked hand. The other continued its journey, pressing against the thin membrane of inflating lungs. He eventually came halfway free of the constricting fabric, hard and dripping against the temperate, stagnant air of the Mindscape. He sighed in relief as it was freed, but beyond that... he was completely at a loss as to what to do with it. Although.. Pine Tree seemed to have things figured out. He experimentally pulled away his knee, watching in fascination as desperate hips chased after it, accompanied by a despairing whine. Inquisitive beyond measure, he tugged at Pine Tree's shorts until something bounced free. Something a little smaller, a little more delicate, a little more flushed. He kept one hand firmly placed inside Pine Tree's chest, but the other chased another, more external organ. He relished the choked cry that he earned once grasping it, feeling the hot flesh pulse under his fingers. "You're a gorgeous creature, Pine Tree," he praised. "My own little sapling, withered by the sun. Bleached white and curling at the fringes. You are a vision, and I want nothing more than to behold you."

Landrin whined and whimpered at the praise, blood flushing into his face. He could feel fingers dancing over his heart, and it thumped frantically in response to the stimuli. He bucked into the demon's loose grasp, breaths coming short and wheezing. "Pleasepleaseplease," he blurted, lost in the drive for release.

Bill grinned, wide and vicious, and adjusted himself to slot his jutting hips against Pine Tree's. He released his own gasp as hot flesh knocked together in brief contact, fumbling with a blood soaked hand to grasp around them. He moaned in unfamiliar ecstasy, feeling chemicals bubble and synapses fire in his brain. He squeezed a thudding organ with one hand, and stroked desperately at two throbbing ones with the other. He gnashed his teeth at the air, enamel clicking and lips catching between needle sharp points. Blood dribbled down his chin as something clear and viscous dribbled down his fist. He needed MORE.

Hot puffs of breath escape Landrin in droves, shaking hands reaching up to grasp at bony shoulders. He pressed desperately into a tightly clenched fist, blood slicking their combined flesh and easing their movement. And suddenly the tension broke, desperate moans dissolving into a sob of relief and garbled syllables as Landrin released, coating Bill's multitude of fingers. He panted for air, gently pulling Bill's hand from his chest cavity even as he shook from aftershocks and overstimulation. "B-Bill, wait-" He cracked a mewl of displeasure as the ministrations continued, the demon's movements growing frantic. He prised free the hand that held him captive, staring up into eyes wide with disbelief and a lack of understanding. "I'll help you," he murmured, slowly turning onto his knees. He could feel loose organs shifting and swaying, and ignored it in favor of the organ bobbing in front of his nose. It was coated in his essence and his lifeblood, and Landrin paused in a short moment of indecision. Dipper had always been awkward and unsure about his sexuality... but Landrin knew what he wanted. He engulfed the length with no warning, letting it choke him without fear of losing breath. He didn't need to breathe, anyway. He lapped up the salty metallic flavor that coated his mouthful of flesh, sucking and constricting his fluttering throat around it. He heard a choked utterance of his name before something warm was dripping down his esophagus. He pulled free with a wet slurping sound, staring unsurely and demurely up at Bill.

The demon gasped for air after his explosive.. whatever that had been, eyes blown wide. "Wowza, Pine Tree. You sure know how to put on a show, huh?" More surprising was the fact that this was the kid's first time ever doing anything of that nature. He'd certainly seen human reproductive activities, but Pine Tree had never once participated in one. It made Bill feel... (XUJHNFQ) accomplished, to know he'd been deemed worthy to do such things with. "So, how do you feel?"

Landrin considered the question for a moment, a grin growing across his face. He locked eyes with the demon, pupils dilated and lips twisting crookedly. His chest cavity remained wide open, and grey chunks of his chest and abdomen littered the bedspread.

"I feel better than ever." 


	26. Choice

As ecstasy faded into exhaustion, and the sweet black flame that had consumed him died down into smoldering embers, Bill felt... (HTSYJSJI BTWWNJI FKKJHWNFYJ WJRTWXJKZQ) strange. He stared down the mutilated thing that lay spread before him, and slowly willed the torn pieces back together. Pine Tree watched him through half lidded eyes, sedate and unblinking. Bill gently pulled Pine Tree's clothes back onto him, dressing him like a life sized doll. He received a sleepy smile for his efforts, murky eyes crystal clear and radiating submission, and in that moment he knew that the creature that had been Pine Tree was ruined beyond measure. He could taste something new in the air, but was unable to place the scent. After so long of having nigh infinite knowledge, being unsure and uniformed left him... disheartened. "Glad to.. know you're feeling better," he said brightly. He saw something in those unfamiliarly familiar eyes flicker, and had the feeling that his unease had shown through his expression.

"All thanks to you," Landrin murmured, crawling across the still pristine bedspread to situate himself in the demon's lap. He pulled and tugged at a face lined with... discomfort(No, couldn't be), fingers dancing over features both typical and inhuman alike. He focused on the otherworldly being in front of him, to quiet the thoughts that threatened to burst inside his head. Don't think. Appease Bill. Everything was okay. "Did you have any other plans for this venture into the Mindscape?"

"I, ah. This was pretty spur of the moment, ya'know?" Everything about Pine Tree's tone of voice was wrong. It was too casual, too comfortable. Even when they had interacted in a somewhat normal fashion, Pine Tree had always been a little stilted, a little wary. "Let's, uh. Hey, what say we spruce this place up a bit, huh?" The complete open emptiness of Pine Tree's Mindscape was (ZSSJWANSL) unusual. He'd never encountered one so utterly lacking in substance before. Clearly this was something that had to be rectified immediately.

Bill snapped a few pairs of fingers, and the little square of hardwood was suddenly connected to hundreds of interlocking marble triangles. The wall behind the bed sank into the growing floor, and new walls sprang up some fair distance away. They were a dark, murky grey, lined with glaring white torches held by black iron sconces. The architecture that sprung into existence around them was entirely bizarre and abstract. It was some sort of foyer/study/bedroom/sitting room combination, filled with overstuffed armchairs and coat racks and bookshelves. Two roaring fireplaces were stationed across from each other in the middle of the floor, and an ornate chandelier composed entirely of intricately linked triangles hung above them. A fully stocked bar appeared in the corner, the shelves lined with liquors that surely would have been a variety of colors, were they present in reality. A spiraling staircase climbed directly into the ceiling, leading nowhere. Paintings hung on the walls, murals of intersecting geometrical shapes interspersed between portraits of Bill himself. Several of them depicted him as 'human', though the rest were saucy triangular poses involving a large quantity of rose petals.

The sprouting furniture eventually came to a halt, and Landrin peered around the room in bewilderment. It was certainly... well, it was typical of Bill. He shouldn't have expected something that made sense. At least it was fairly nice, though he wouldn't have minded just staying in bed until he inevitably had to awaken. "Looks like your kinda place," he commented, side eyeing the dream demon. Bill's grin was strained near the point of tearing itself apart, and Landrin frowned. What could Bill possibly be uncomfortable about? Did he think Landrin would ridicule his sense of interior design, or something? "If I'm going to be subjected to your architectural construction, we should at least enjoy it." He left his own bed, grasping for Bill's hand and ignoring the reactionary flinch in favor of dragging him over to one of the fires. Oddly enough, it gave off no heat. At least the crackling and popping of ignited wood was soothing in its own right. He settled into an armchair that inexplicably possessed three arms, and gestured for Bill to join him.

Bill's grin cracked at the seams, but he acquiesced to the human's request. He squeezed gingerly into the misshapen chair beside Pine Tree. The human was staring at him with a look he couldn't decipher, and he stretched his grin wider in response. "Sorry about the fires; despite my incredible mastery of the mind, I can't create energy from nothing."

"I appreciate the effort nonetheless." Landrin smiled gently at the demon, and it fell away when he noticed the blatant discomfort on Bill's face. There was no mistaking it, now. "Is something wrong? You've been looking at me weird."

"No, of course not! Everything is juuuust peachy!" Bill attempted to school his expression into something cheerful and disarming, and was unsure of whether or not he achieved it. Something was dreadfully off about Pine Tree, and he didn't understand why. Instead of this fact sparking his fury, as he expected, it instead left him feeling... (AZQSJWFGQJ) exposed.

"Clearly it isn't. We can either sit here all night while I grind the answer out of you, or you can just tell me outright." Landrin leaned over and placed both palms on either side of Bill's face. His eyelids slid halfway closed, and a serene smile oozed onto his lips. "It's okay, Bill. Whatever it is, I promise I won't be mad."

"It's you, Pine Tree!" the dream demon erupted, focusing both pupils on Pine Tree's lax expression. "You're acting like everything is fine, and it ISN'T! I DESTROYED you! And you're-smiling, and touching me, and being CHEERFUL!" Bill grasped Pine Tree's face with a hand, digging his fingers in until he earned a pained whimper. "You seem to forget that I can SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU. I KNOW what exists in that head of yours, Pine Tree; despair, depression, and self loathing. Not..." Bill gestured vaguely at him with one hand, "whatever this is."

Landrin's eyes narrowed into slits, and a desperate snarl formed on his face. "Whatever 'this' is? 'This' is what you _made_ me, Bill! Y-...you took everything that remained of what I was and turned it to ashes and echoes. 'This' is all that's left. I.." His expression wobbled unstably, breath skewered by iron stakes of duress. "I.. I-It can't hurt me anymore, if I don't acknowledge it. Reality is an illusion- you said it yourself. I just... have to believe, and I won't hurt anymore." Landrin felt his tongue shrivel and curl from the acidic lies (couldn't be lies it had to be real) he spewed forth.

Bill opened his mouth to regurgitate a verbal wrecking ball to shatter Pine Tree's delusions, but something gave him pause. The sour rot of guilt refused to be ignored, ripping up his insides just as he had done to Pine Tree. "..I'm sorry. It doesn't work like that, Pine Tree. From what I've seen, humans are masters of making themselves miserable; usually for no good reason. And, well..." A humorless grin cropped up. "You've got better reasons than most."

Landrin shook his head in Bill's confining grip, eyes squeezed firmly shut. "You _said_ you'd make me feel better! Y-you.. stop telling me things I don't want to hear!" Even when he was consumed by black, he could feel that golden gaze melting through him.

"Apparently I somehow managed to petrify you, because you're denser than I remember!" Bill visibly grew agitated, teeth displayed in a rotten grimace. He shook Pine Tree's head until the little idiot decided to open his eyes, and met the petulant glare with one of his own. "I'm trying to HELP you, Pine Tree. And trust me when I tell you.. pretending to be someone else doesn't get you anywhere." He felt... (YJWWNKNJI FHHTRUQNXJI FXMFRJI) surprised, that he'd ever bother to share something about himself, no matter how vague it was. He watched as familiar misery crept back onto Pine Tree's face, and felt his chest constrict. Guilt, and something unfamiliar. Something that made him hurt, despite nothing being wrong with him. He decided that he loathed this emotion, too.

"I-I just don't know what to do anymore," Landrin (Dipper? Whoever.) whispered dully. "There's nothing I _can_ do. It isn't a mystery to solve, or an argument to settle. S...she's just.. gone." His voice shattered on the final syllable, and he averted his gaze from shame. He felt Bill's fingers slowly retreat, and almost considered chasing them. Their warmth was the only thing that made him feel real.

"You've gotta figure that out for yourself, Pine Tree. Lucky for you, I'm here to help." The words felt strange and unfamiliar; offering help without getting something in return was unheard of, as far as Bill Cipher was concerned. "Let's start with something small, okay? What do you want to do right now?" Bill watched patiently as Pine Tree ground the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. When he was finally looking Bill's way, his eyes were red with irritation, and glossy with despair.

"I just want to wake up." 


	27. Metaphysical

Dipper (Landrin? Doesn't matter.) awoke underneath a firm pressure. It weighed down on his chest, and made breathing slightly laborious. He cracked open his eyes, and saw a blur of black and gold strands, shimmering like stalks of wheat under the sun. "Bill," he whispered.

"You rang?" A pair of bulging eyes slid open, pupil sharp and focused, a ring of fire blazing gold around it. Bill's signature grin was unseen, but its presence resonated right through Landrin's bones. He could imagine enamel saws grinding through him, splitting him in two like the toothpick he was. His branches were stripped, and his bark was peeled. It was all he could do not to bend and snap in the unforgiving breeze.

Bill's words registered through his mist of deterioration metaphors. Landrin knew it wasn't a real question, but felt the impulse to answer anyway. He just needed to hear Bill's screeching voice, and the best way to get it was to speak himself. "Y..yeah. I, uhm." What was the point in holding back, anymore? It wasn't like he had anything to lose at this point. Everything was dead and buried. "I'm glad you're here."

Bill blinked asynchronously at the human he was lying on top of. "Well, you'd be the first!" There was a brief pause as Bill tried to reign in the bulk of his balking, but it was quickly filled by his overly loud voice. "Besides, it's not like I have anywhere else to be! You're kinda priority numero one-o at the moment." The demon bent over backwards, limbs twisting and joints popping as he pushed himself off the couch. He moved like a stop motion movie monster; jerking arythmically and moving with an oddly uncoordinated coordination. Landrin watched in macabre fascination, studying the way Bill's improperly placed joints and inhumanly proportioned limbs worked in unison. It was such a little thing, but it left him feeling unduly fascinated.

"Like what you see, Pine Tree?" Bill's mocking flirtations cut through his haze of thought, and Landrin lurched up into a sitting position. He could feel color threatening to flood his face, and wasn't completely sure why. He and Bill had already been... intimate, so what was the point of being embarrassed about things? He supposed it was just a natural reflex, at this point. He'd always been easily flustered. Or.. at least, Dipper had been.

"..Maybe I do," he murmured, eyes flicking up to Bill's even as he bowed his head. He vaguely registered the mask of shock that flickered over that familiar face, before it was replaced with a boasting grin.

"Well, of course you do! I'm pretty... uh, what's the word.. immolated? Yeah, that one!" Bill's pride swelled with his mastery of human speech conventions, and it allowed him to completely ignore the mildly amused look that Pine Tree was throwing his way. He continued speaking before Pine Tree could incorrectly correct him, raising his voice to drown out any other noise that the human might try to produce. "So, what's the plan for today, Pine Tree? Wanna rob a bank? That's a thing humans do, right? I'd sure like some of that gold.."

"I'm not sure regular banks keep gold, anymore." Landrin slowly, achingly rose to his feet. It felt like every part of his body had been soaked in cement that would never slough off. "And we can't just do illegal things. We'll be arrested." He strained to stretch his arms over his head, spine emitting a series of nauseating cracks and pops. "And.. I was kind of thinking we could just... stay inside. And not do anything. Ever."

"Well, that sure sounds boring," Bill replied plainly. He pirouetted over, wrapping a mile long arm around Pine Tree's barely-there waist. He earned a crackly yelp as he yanked the warm body against his own, and proceeded to thrust a hand outwards with an air of dramatics. "Now tell me, Pine Tree. Is that REALLY what you want to do? Do you really want to just hide away inside your house until you die of starvation? Or hide under your blankets to make the monstrous terror of reality go away?" He gave the man a violent shake before he could answer, and earned a confused glare. "Don't you dare answer me with whatever drivel you concocted in your primitive, idiotic chemical laced grey matter. I want to hear what comes from the metaphysical mind. So think carefully before you answer."

Dipper (Landrin!Landrin?Landrin.) waited for his 'primitive grey matter' to cease banging around inside the cavity of his skull, pressing one hand to his scalp as if it would do anything to aid his disorientation. "Y..." He paused, and waited until he could really take stock of Bill's words. Think with his metaphysical mind... something beyond the limits of his own flesh. "...No. I don't want to do that. I want to do something that makes me feel alive."

Bill's shark toothed grin looked fit to shear him in half. "Now THAT'S the kinda answer I'm lookin' for! Now, here's what's gonna happen. I'm going to come up with some incredible ideas, and you're gonna pick one for us to do! I'll line 'em up, you knock 'em down; got it?"

"Ye-"

"SWIMMING, LET'S GO TO A PUBLIC POOL AND SEE HOW MANY KIDS WE CAN PULL UNDER BEFORE SOMEONE NOTICES. BOWLING, THAT'S THE THING WHERE HUMANS HUCK HEAVY SPHERES AROUND, RIGHT? COUNT ME IN. EATING. LET'S GO SOMEWHERE GREASY AND DISGUSTING, 'CAUSE I'VE GOT A REAL HANKERING FOR SOME REVOLTING HUMAN GARBAGE SUSTENANCE. SHOPPING. YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH USELESS MATERIAL POSSESSIONS, RIGHT? MAYBE I CAN EVEN ENHANCE MY WARDROBE. BASEBALL. THAT'S THE ONE WHERE YOU HIT THINGS WITH WOODEN BATS AND THROW BALLS AT PEOPLE, OR SO I'VE HEARD. VIOLENCE IS ALWAYS HILARIOUS!"

Bill's final words rang out through the spacious living room, and he seemed no worse for wear, after having screamed for so long. Landrin figured Bill must be used to it by this point. Unfortunately, his own ears weren't used to it, and they rang like alarm bells for the next few moments. Landrin attempted to simultaneously rub at both of his ears with one hand, whilst using the other to escape from Bill's weedy grasp. He was marginally successful on both accounts. "I.. uh. I guess we could... do you even know how to swim?" Hopefully this would be the ideal place to keep a lid on Bill's destructive tendencies. For all his talk, Landrin knew that the demon understood the serious threat of law enforcement. Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen at a pool? 

Landrin shook off visions of limbless, water bloated torsos when he realized Bill was speaking. "Can't be that hard, right? If baby ducklings can do it from the moment they've finished incubating, then I can too!" Bill looked pleased by the choice, though Landrin assumed he'd have been fine with anything. "I need special waterproof pants for this, right? The really ugly and unfashionable kind?"

Landrin almost managed a smile in response to Bill's... unique descriptions. "Yeah. I guess we'll have to buy you some. I think there's a pool store in town." He watched impassively as the demon shouted something and raced out the front door. Dark, salt soaked thoughts swam in currents through his head. But Landrin dismissed them.

If he was going to drown, it would be on his own terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderful fanart for the story http://theannieparadigm.tumblr.com/post/146649377983/giftart-for-introspectiveinquisitor
> 
> Be sure to check out and support the artist!


	28. Sunlight

  
Upon setting out into the vast, dreadful reality of the outside world, Landrin was greeted by a peculiar sight. His car was being accosted by a beast in yellow. Bill scaled over it like a partially amputated tarantula, and seemed perfectly content with his position atop the surely scorching metal of the vehicle. Landrin stared with a bleak sort of amusement, and a murmuring fear that someone might be looking. "Bill, please.. I can't drive with you on top of the car."

"I'm completely certain that you could," the demon responded blasely, idly knocking the heels of his shoes against the front windshield. "But maaaaybe I'll get off, if you say the magic word."

"I already said please," Landrin replied with slowly mounting impatience. But then he thought... Bill was most likely just teasing him. There was no reason to be upset. There was no reason not to play the game, anymore. "Unless you're looking for an actual magic word, I guess. Hocus pocus. Alakazam. Incantare. Presto. Praecantatio. Am I getting warmer?" It was certainly getting warmer outside, at least. The sky was completely bare of cloud cover; an endless azure expanse accompanied by a blazing star that already had sweat beading on his forehead.

Bill leapt onto his feet, rocking the entire car with his abrupt movements. "I was lookin' for presto!" He crowed, grinning proudly. "But it's good to see your Latin is getting better, Pine Tree. Boy, you used to be TERRIBLE! Your pronunciations were hilarious." He stepped down over the hood of the car and onto the driveway, uncaring of the way the windshield creaked under his momentary weight. He became slightly more (FXMFRJI WJRTXJKZQ) aware of the disapproving look that Pine Tree gave him, and spread his lips wide in return.

"Don't damage my car, unless you want to never go anywhere again." Landrin fished out his keys, and somehow managed to miss unlocking his car on the first attempt. He ignored Bill's loud snickering, listening for the click of the door locks before he climbed inside. "Please go in through the other door," he pleaded, before Bill could even begin crawling over him.

"Aww, what's the matter, Pine Tree? Embarrassed to be close to me?" Bill cackled at the thought, and the unearthly, unsettling sound echoed down the street. It continued even as he circled around to the passenger side door, and only ceased once he was able to start playing with the radio. The sound of instrumental carnage roared out of the speakers, and Landrin cringed at the sudden burst of volume.

"If you could turn that down a little, it'd really help me concentrate." He shifted into reverse and left the driveway, and a sigh of relief could barely be heard as the thundering sound of drums and guitars lowered to a more manageable level. "Thank you."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't approve of my musical tastes!" Bill unveiled a slow, slithering smile that made Dip(Lan)drin(per)'s skin shudder and writhe. Somehow, even after his extreme overexposure to Bill's nightmarish visage, it still managed to be utterly terrifying. Bill appeared to catch onto this, for his smile widened to unsafe lengths. "I've gotta say, the way you humans make your instruments scream and wail is really inspiring! Maybe I should pick up an instrument!"

"Do you even know how to play anything? I didn't imagine you'd be particularly interested in the artistic pursuits of humanity." Well, if Bill's brief poetry spouts were any indication, he had more than a passing interest in the fine arts. It just seemed that he was loathe to admit it.

"Of course I do! What, you think you monkeys are the only ones that deserve to make sweet music?" Bill snapped his fingers as if something would happen, and stared at his hand in genuine confusion for all of an iota of a moment. "Anyway, I'm a whizz at the piano! Pretty good saxophonist too, if I do say so myself. And let me tell ya, I play a MEAN lute."

"How would you even  _play_ a saxophone? You don't have a mouth when you're all.." Landrin made as if to gesture, before freezing up and locking his hands on the wheel. Focus. "Triangular," he finished. Winter frost crept up his spine.

Bill scoffed. And then he did it a second time, at a higher volume to really emphasize his utter incredulity. "You think this is my first go around in the flesh suit rodeo, Pine Tree? Granted, it's my first ever body made just for me, but I've inhabited more than my fair share of you skin walkers."

It took Landrin a moment to realize that words had been spoken. His eyes seared along the strip of asphalt in front of him. "You.. you inhabited a human body long enough to learn how to play a saxophone? That's pretty long term." He shuddered to remember his own... out of body experience. He couldn't imagine it lasting longer than those few nightmarish hours. Days. Months. Years, spent as an unwilling spectator to the macabre dance of a demon cloaked in his skin. Don't think.

"You'd be surprised at how easy it is to get some shmuck to give up their body. Or, maybe you wouldn't!" Bill cackled at his own joke, and it slowly tapered off as he noticed the palpable discomfort on Pine Tree's face. He felt... guit; a poisonous gnawing that ate at his insides, burning through layers of tissue and fat. "I, uh. Not to say that you're... uhm." For the first time in one trillion years, Bill decided that it would be a good idea to stop talking.

The rest of the ride passed in an uncomfortably warm, bubbling silence. Hardened rubber treaded on asphalt, tracing faded lines created by others of their kind. Eventually tar black abruptly shifted into stone grey, as a strip of concrete parking lot disappeared under the tires. Neat yellow lines were considered and obeyed, much to the displeasure of a certain Bill Cipher. He scuffed ineffectually at one with his shoe, and glared with an intensity that could melt steel beams. Unfortunately, the paint didn't peel even a little bit.

"Pine Tree, I hate these car lots. Why can't you just park wherever you want?" His one eyed gaze flickered towards other cars, and squinted in challenge at the sunshine induced glare that glinted off reflective coats of paint. One day...

"Because then nobody would be able to get out without running into other vehicles," Landrin explained patiently, vaguely wondering why it was even necessary. He knew Bill was a creature of chaos, and had a strong distaste for order... but surely he at least knew what it was for, right? He glanced over, and saw genuine bewilderment on Bill's leering face. Maybe he wasn't so sure about that.

"Where's the fun in that? The whole point of cars is that you can ram 'em into things! And get around or whatever," Bill tacked on dismissively. "It'd be much more entertaining if you had to battle other drivers for the ideal parking space. And if you get stuck, you can just drive over the other cars!"

"That's pretty mild for you," Landrin observed. He saw Bill's confused look, and decided to clarify. "I mean, chaos wise. I'd have thought you'd want the cars to turn into organic monsters, and you have to get eaten by them in order to drive, or something." He slowed to a halt as Bill abruptly came to a stop in the middle of the lot, looking... something that Landrin was tentative to label; melancholic, perhaps?

"Yeah, well, that's not much of an option at the moment. I've got physical limits to work with for the next little while, so I can't exactly.." Bill agitatedly sliced a hand through the air, "make anything happen with a snap of my fingers, right now." He glanced moodily in the other direction, before some of the tension left his razor edged shoulders. His head swiveled around, mutilated by a sickening, malicious grin. A manic fire raged in his pupil, his iris vibrant and outstanding even in the light of day. "But believe me, Pine Tree, if I had my powers in the physical world... I'd put on a show you'd NEVER forget." He relished the quiet horror on Pine Tree's face, and refused to let the bitter curl of guilt ruin it for him.

"Y..yeah. I, bet you would." Landrin was suddenly more thankful that he..- that the apocalypse had been prevented than he'd ever been previous. As benign as Bill pretended to be at times, he was still a quasar of madness and destruction. The only difference was that he was contained in a human shell, for a short time. Landrin would have to make that short time last. Don't think. Appease Bill. Don't let anyone get hurt. "We should head inside. It's pretty warm out here." Without waiting for an answer, he set off into 'Fish Stu's Poolside Kajigers and Whoosie-Whatsits', alarming anyone inside to his presence by way of a tinny sounding bell. The rush of air conditioning was a relief from the late(?) spring heat, and he soaked it in as brooding footsteps followed his own.

"Gee, your local naming conventions sure are stupid!" Bill observed brightly, and loudly enough to easily catch the attention of the employee behind the sales counter. She rolled her eyes and mumbled something that sounded almost agreeing, and Bill's grin widened to unhealthy proportions. Before she could actually say something and ruin his mood, he grabbed Pine Tree by the shoulder and shoved him deeper into the shop. "Wow, you sure have a lot of junk just for splashing around in shallow water. What's the point of all this stuff?" He leaned down to inspect a box, which depicted an inflatable plastic deer/cow/fox creature. He laughed delightedly at it.

"Humans are pretty good at inventing things that have no practical use," Landrin agreed, eyeing a toy squid loaded with real organic ink in disgust. "We're just going to get a few things. Swimsuits, and maybe a kickboard or something." He'd rather not have to fish Bill out of the deep end when he inevitably proved his inability to swim. Landrin paused, and wondered if the deep end would even be deep enough to cover Bill's face.

"Hey, Pine Tree!" Landrin turned around at the utterance of his nickname, and stared flatly at Bill, who had six pairs of swimming goggles strapped around his face. "You think they make monocular versions of these?" The overly tightened goggles depressed and deformed his face flesh, making him look like even more of a horror show than usual.

"I really doubt it, Bill. Can we please focus on getting our things and getting out? I'd like to get to the pool before the sun goes down." Truth be told, Landrin was having second thoughts about this whole venture. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been swimming of his own will, and the idea of it now was causing thoughts of briney depths and asphyxiation to crop up. But he knew Bill wouldn't let him just go home. He'd just have to grin and bear it. Or, alternatively, quietly brood in a secluded corner of the pool until the demon grew bored of harassing people.

"You've got a point," Bill replied solemnly, as he peeled multicolored goggles off his head. "What do we need? Water pants? Foam tubes? Harpoon guns?" Unsurprisingly, Bill looked particularly excited about the idea of skewering people with pneumatic harpoon launchers.

"Yes, we need swim trunks. Other than that... sun screen, definitely, and maybe a kickboard for you." Landrin couldn't believe he'd almost forgotten sunscreen. With his own pasty complexion, and Bill's nearly transparent skin, they'd probably be better off with a prescription brand. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option at the moment. It'd involve visiting a dermatologist, and Landrin didn't trust Bill around medical professionals. Well, he didn't trust Bill around anyone, Landrin amended.

"A kickboard, eh? As much as I'd like to get my hopes up, I'm guessing it's just a buoyant board that you use to kick yourself through the water." Bill looked absolutely crushed at the idea of it. "Hey, great idea, courtesy of me. Maybe instead of that.. I could get a pool bludgeon! They make those, right?" He stalked the back of Pine Tree's ankles, who seemed intent on moving to the swimsuit section.

"No, they don't make those. Can- can we please not talk about hurting people? I just..." A wave of bleak despair draped itself over him, weighing him down as if it were composed of lead stitches. "I just want to pretend to enjoy myself, for a little while."

Bill's cheesy salesman grin slipped away, replaced by something a little more... (HTRUFXXNOTSFYJ UNYDNTL) contemplative. He took a single loping stride, and cupped a downturned chin with spindly fingers. He angled clouded eyes up to gaze into his own, and studied their depths. "..Alright! Just point us where to go, Pine Tree." He released the pliant face, and shoved hands that twitched to continue touching it into his pockets.

"Y...yeah." Landrin shook with the nerves that were always given life, whenever Bill closed the distance between them. Dipper had been unsure if he liked it or not. Landrin... well, it was best not to think about too hard. He led them down to the swimsuit aisle, thumbing through the 'small's in the hopes that he'd find something that would actually stay on him. His old swimsuit definitely wouldn't fit anymore. He eventually found a pair that looked about the right size, dyed a deep blue and patterned with seaweed along the pant legs. He decided it wasn't completely hideous, and retrieved it from the rack. "Bill, did you find-" He paused, glancing around. No sign of the demon. He frantically turned to inspect the sales counter, only to find it perfectly intact, and the employee behind it to be blissfully undisturbed. The bell above the door hadn't rang, so where-

His eyes flickered to the changing room on the other side of the aisle, and his constricted heart was given a much needed reprieve. He sighed and trudged towards it, knocking on the only closed door inside the cramped room. "Bill, are you in there?"

"Sure am, Pine Tree!" Landrin had to step back as the door was flung open, revealing the dream demon in all his sickly splendor. The florescent lights washed him out to the point of looking like a specter, immaterial and intangible. A pair of blindingly yellow swim trunks (patterned with triangles, how did he even find these things-) was the only article of clothing he wore. "Looks pretty good, right?" He leered down at the stunned human, trying to read his reaction.

Landrin swallowed something viscous and oozing, clearing his throat a little louder than was strictly necessary. He ignored sleek hands that hung past bony knees, and pointedly didn't look at prominent ribs or a starkly defined clavicle. He stared into an all consuming eye, the inside of his mouth withered and cracked like a stone desert. "It looks fine," he croaked. "We should get the rest of our things and leave. And put on a shirt before you come out, please." He turned on a heel and exited, zeroing in on a little shelf lined with sunscreen. He searched frantically through them, barely even registering the numbers printed on the front. He eventually collected an SPF 40, vaguely remembering something about high values being misleading. He heard the sharp clack of oxfords in the short distance between himself and the changing room, and resigned himself to waiting. "I have the sunscreen," he said as blandly as he could manage.

"That doesn't look like a screen to me." Bill snatched the bottle out of his hands, and squinted at the label. He turned it over, scanning the ingredients list. "Ohh, you apes are so clever! Slathering yourself in potentially harmful chemical concoctions to protect against certainly harmful UV rays! Reminds me of the good old days of mercury tonics and snake oil." Bill sighed dreamily, lost in reverie.

Landrin considered defending the concept of sunscreen, before wondering why it even mattered. It wasn't like he'd change Bill's opinion. It wasn't like changing Bill's opinion was important. "We've got one more thing to get," he murmured, gaze trailing along the walls in search of what he needed. He dragged his feet on his way to pick out a kickboard, snagging a yellow one without being asked and trying to ignore the pleased expression on that monstrous face. He forked over cash for their purchases, and carried it all (except for Bill's trunks) out in a plastic bag. He tried to angle the board so it would stop hitting him in the face, but eventually gave up. He simply threw it all into the back seat of his car, sliding into the driver's side and resting his forehead against the steering wheel. He just wanted to go home. What would Bill do, anyway? Torture him? Like that wasn't already happening. The demon didn't control him. Bill couldn't make him do anything he didn't want to.

He shifted into reverse, and drove to the nearest public pool. 


	29. Life

"-nd that's why Kalamazoo is gonna be completely cratered! Like, wowza, total nuclear annihilation to the extreme! I mean- think of all the thermonuclear devices on the planet being detonated in the same place all at once, and then the resulting explosion is condensed down to only encompass about twenty five square miles. Now multiply that by four hundred, and you've got a pretty good idea of what it'll look like!"

Landrin was pretty sure he had died at some point along the drive. He just couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment of his expiration. All he knew was that he must have done something terrible, to be sentenced to an eternity of listening to Bill babble on about future disasters, and the chemical composition of local Honduran sodas. According to the demon, they used a significant quantity of goat milk and pureed dragonflies. He wasn't even sure if there  _were_ dragonflies in Honduras. "Could we not talk about nuclear armageddon for a little while? Or ever again, preferably."

Bill paused, having only just opened his mouth to begin explaining the exact logistics of how a nuclear detonation vaporized human bodies. "C'mon, Pine Tree; I'm giving you some real insider information over here! I charge very steep prices for tidbits like these, I'll have you know."

"But you don't even have omniscience at the moment, right? How do I know you're not just making all of this up to mess with me?" He very dearly hoped that that was the case; mostly for the sake of Kalamazoo, Michigan, but the soda thing was slightly unsettling as well.

"You don't!" Bill cackled gleefully. "And isn't that just the best part? Confusion is a beautiful thing, Pine Tree. It's like pure concentrated brain chaos!" He reached over to pat Pine Tree's head without looking, and ended up swiping empty air a few times before he made contact. The human swiftly ducked away from his touch, and Bill decided to let him go for now. "How far away is this place, anyway? Feels like we've been driving forever! And I think I'd know a thing or two about eternity!"

"It's just a little further," Dip-(Dipper was dead and buried)Landrin replied as placatingly as he could muster. He only had to endure a little bit more of Bill's nonsense, and then he'd be able to relax in heavily chlorinated pool water filled with other gross, sweaty human beings. Maybe 'relax' was a bit of a strong word; 'avoid having a panic attack' was likely the best he could manage. He'd have to watch Bill like a hawk the entire time, too. There was no way he could allow a public incident to occur. He vaguely went through the motions of parking and climbing out of the car, mood steadily plummeting. Not that it had been very high in the first place. It was hard to be positive, with the whole having a dead sister thing. Never mind the fact that the rest of his family was either halfway across the country, or on the other side of the planet, sailing foreign waters. He felt more stranded than Stan and Ford were, lost amidst a sea of clawing grey mist that threatened to consume whatever was left of him. The only thing that kept him steady was a yellow monstrosity that dug its fingers into his skull, and picked apart pieces of him for amusement. He.. he just-

"-INE TREE! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?" He (DipperLandrinwhatdiditmatter) blinked out of his stupor, glancing up at the wildly gesturing demon that had been shouting at him for a solid minute. They were stood in front of the entrance to the public pool, which appeared to be completely blocked off by police tape.

"..Huh." He peered over to a hastily erected sign, on the gate, which read 'CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE'. Above it was a much more official looking sign, on which was printed 'THIS ESTABLISHMENT HAS BEEN PLACED UNDER QUARANTINE BY ORDER OF THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT'. "..I guess it's closed," Landrin pointed out dully, feeling a trickle of relief. "Looks like we're going home."

"THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE," Bill screeched like the unholy ghoul he was, and proceeded to step over the police tape. He rattled the locked gate with both hands, pressing his eye up to the chain link to peer inside. "...THERE'S NOT EVEN ANY WATER- Pine Tree I am very upset."

"That's nice," he murmured, already turning around to walk back to the car. He yelped as an iron grip tugged him backwards by the collar of his shirt, momentarily cutting off his air supply. "Bill, let _go_ of me. The pool is closed, and there's nothing we can do about it, so let's just go home already."

Bill whirled Pine Tree around and flashed a manic stretch of teeth. "No can do, buckaroo! YOU said we were gonna swim, and THAT is what we're gonna do. Capiche?" He proceeded to violently jerk Pine Tree back and forth, until he received the warbled agreement that he was looking for. "GREAT! Now, I've had an incredible idea. Not very surprising, I know. BUT, you should pay attention anyway."

Landrin(who cares) stumbled backwards, struggling to balance himself so he didn't hit the concrete. "Was that entirely necessary?" He quickly continued speaking before the inevitable and very loud 'YES' could be unleashed. "What's your amazing idea? I absolutely refuse to drive to another town to use a different pool, by the way."

"Such feeble ideas, Pine Tree! I expected better of you." Bill began traipsing back towards the car, leaving Pine Tree to trail after him in mild confusion. "Why would we need to leave town, when there's a perfectly good pool in your very own backyard? Figuratively speaking." There was a brief pause. "We're going into your neighbor's pool."

"I was afraid you would say that," Landrin droned miserably. He sighed out a lungful of air, and debated on never inhaling again. "We're not going pool hopping, Bill. I changed my mind about swimming. I just want to go to sleep."

"There you go with those chemical fueled brain sensations again! You already gave me the truth of what you want to do, so it is well within my rights to ignore everything else you say." Bill yanked open the driver side door, scooping Pine Tree up and cramming him inside. He scaled over the top of the vehicle, prising open his own door and slithering inside. He exposed his teeth at the sight of Pine Tree's simmering glare. "Well? Get driving. I wanna swim before it gets dark."

Landrin rested his forehead against the grip of the steering wheel, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stave off his impending headache. He already knew that this demon would be the death of him, but he hadn't expected everything before that to be so exasperating. He keyed the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, which he only just realized was completely empty. What could have happened at a public pool of all places that required federal intervention? Whatever. It wasn't any business of his. He kept completely silent for the rest of the drive, and, miraculously, Bill seemed to pick up onto his desire to avoid speaking.

By the time they made it back to his house, he was aching with thoughts of his sinfully soft bed, and its ability to send him drifting into oblivion. Although, with Bill here, he was almost guaranteed another foray into the Mindscape. That was the last place he wanted to be at the moment. Maybe if he asked nicely... Bill would hold off on taking them there? It was a pleasant thought, at the very least. He trudged towards the front door, and didn't even bother pretending to be shocked when Bill tugged him backwards. "...Can you please just let me sleep?"

Bill frowned down at his favorite human (Sorry Fordsie, but you're an astronomically distant second!) and layered eight fingers on one sun flushed cheek."Your resistance is paltry and unsatisfying, Pine Tree. On the bright side, that makes it easier to make you do things! So c'mon, let's get our stuff and do some breaking and entering!"

"..." Landrin pressed both hands over the malformed one that cupped his cheek, and released a breath. "Just don't drown." He slipped out of Bill's grip, catching a glimpse of smug triumph before he lethargically pulled open a door to the backseat, gathering their purchases and kicking the door closed behind him. "We're hopping the fence," he murmured, stuffing their poolside paraphernalia in Bill's grip as he dragged his feet onto the property next to his. He glanced down at neatly manicured grass, and turned to look back at his own overgrown, weed infested yard. Well, the HOA hadn't called yet, so he was probably fine. He turned back to size up the solid wooden gate that lead into the neighbor's backyard, as well as the lock secured on it. He gave the handle an experimental tug-

-and revealed the air conditioning unit built into the side of the house. He stared incredulously at the completely unsecured lock, before shrugging. At least it made things easier. "Okay, we're probably going to need some towels or something-"

"Towels? Nonsense! We'll let the glorious orb of burning plasma that your planet revolves around dry us off!" Bill gestured grandiosely up at the sky, staring directly at the sun for a split second before he was forced to look away, cackling delightedly. "Wow, that packs a whallop!"

"Please don't blind yourself." Landrin decided that the towel argument wasn't worth the energy, and instead pulled on Bill's hand to lead him into the backyard. They stepped through the well trimmed grass and onto a solid sandstone deck, built around a rectangular pool that sparkled invitingly. A hot tub was situated on the level above it, and had a lip that was presumably used to create an artificial waterfall. There was a small wrought iron table set up on the corner of the deck, surrounded by six cushioned iron chairs. Small, neatly kept flower beds lined the fenced in perimeter, and a covered patio was home to an outdoor couch and a barbeque pit. "...Let's put on some sunscreen before we get in."

"Sure, why not." Bill tossed the bag of their purchases aside, and watched as Pine Tree scrambled to catch it. He frowned at the lack of annoyed reaction, but put it out of his head. He padded past the human and dipped his toe into the water. It was a surprisingly pleasant temperature; just cool enough to be refreshing. Deciding not to waste anymore time, Bill shucked off his shirt and jumped feet first into the pool with a terrific splash. He stubbed his toe hard against the concrete bottom, and laughed uproariously. "Hey, this is pretty nice!"

"Did I not just say we should put on sunscreen first?" Landrin wasted all of a few moments wondering why he even bothered, and then decided it didn't matter as he began slapping on sunscreen. If Bill was gonna burn, he'd be more than happy to let it happen. Although... being forced to listen to the demon either giggle uncontrollably from the pain of his sunburn, whine incessantly about the pain from his sunburn, or combine the two into something truly nightmarish sounded like a terrible time. "Bill, please put on some sunscreen. You're not going to like sunburn, I promise."

"Geez, what are you, my overbearing parental unit?" Bill clawed his way over the lip of the pool, water glistening on his corpseflesh as he stalked low across the deck on all four spindly limbs. He lurched up into a standing position, and grinned down at a slightly disturbed looking Pine Tree. "Besides, having my skin be seared by UV rays and then peel off sounds pretty fun! I'd finally know how serpents feel when they shed."

"Just let me put the sunscreen on you," Landrin pleaded, and no longer had the motivation to feel ashamed for doing so. Dipper was already six feet under, and Landrin was leeching off of whatever was left. He couldn't exactly get any lower than he already was. He blamed the irritating prickling behind his eyes on the beaming sun, and began smearing sunscreen on Bill's offered back. He did his best not to count the highly visible vertebrae, but could immediately tell that it had to be more than thirty three. A shudder crawled down his own vertebral column, and he averted his attention to Bill's shoulders. The blades looked sharp enough to cut glass, and protruded like severed wing stumps. This was a truly alien being that stood before him, and Landrin was painfully fascinated.

He eventually moved downwards, coming face to face with a pair of stick thin legs that were supported by an extra joint. It was barely visible, but the small knot of bone felt extremely obvious under his fingers. They were like the legs of an insect; capable of an incredible range of motion. He'd seen those legs in action, twisting and bending in ways no human could ever hope to replicate. He vaguely realized that Bill's physical body was probably more terrifying than any horror movie monster he'd ever seen. And even so, he was still attracted to it. This unnatural plane of sickly flesh and malformed bone and gleaming teeth and one single all seeing eye was...

"Hey, you done down there yet? I know I'm quite the specimen to behold, but you've been sitting there for like, a minute. Or twelve. Still not used to this internal clock thing." Bill flashed a manic grin at the startled, doe eyed look he received. "There we go! Glad to see your brain stem didn't disconnect, or anything. That's a thing, right?"

"We both know that isn't a thing, Bill." Landrin stood on wobbling legs, trying to find his footing despite standing on a perfectly even, solid surface. "Alright. You should be good for about thirty minutes, and then we have to put it on again."

"WHAT," Bill thundered, looking stricken with fury and betrayal. "THIS STUFF DOESN'T LAST PERMANENTLY?! Pine Tree this is unacceptable I am going to write a letter to your local congressman about this. And then I'm going to peel his throat open like a sausage while he reads it BECAUSE THIS IS A TRAVESTY."

"Y..you do know that local government doesn't have anything to do with sunscreen, right?" Landrin recoiled and clammed up at the burning stare he earned for his remark. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it works. Unless you want to get sunburnt, we have to put it on every thirty minutes or so. That's the best way to prevent it. And the more time you spend complaining about it, the less time you have to swim before we have to put on more."

"You make a surprisingly salient point, Pine Tree. Let us rectify this time wasting post-haste." Bill stood completely still for a moment before he lunged, grasping Pine Tree around the middle and lifting the thrashing, shouting human into the air. "This is the only way, Pine Tree! See you on the other side!" Bill cackled and flung Pine Tree straight into the pool, where he broke the surface of the water with a tremendous splash.

Landrin surfaced with a sputtering gasp, water plastering his hair over his eyes and the sound of Bill's hysterical hyena screeches assailing his waterlogged ears. He coughed up a mouthful of chlorinated water and swiped his hair out of his face, trying to force the fiercest glare he could muster. Only... he focused on the cool, cradling sensation of the water that engulfed him. He pressed a hand over his chest to feel the exhilarated thudding of his heart, and the blood thrumming through his veins. He blinked as Bill's cackles increased in volume and proximity, before he saw a blur of monster throw itself into the water beside him. He raised his hands to defend against the resulting wave, and heard the demon choke between laughter. In mere moments he could feel something warm and indescribably wonderful bubble up from his diaphragm, through his throat and out of his mouth. He laughed along with his companion and tormentor, his only friend and his last enemy, and caught a flash of gold between squinted lids.

And Landrin felt alive, at least for a little while.


	30. Mind's Eye

  
The world was painted in solid black. He (DipperLandrinPINETREE) floated in an endless void, limbs catching and flowing with unseen currents. The titanic pressure of the ocean's might caused his bones to creak and his chest to constrict. But it could not steal away his breath, for it had never been there to begin with. He clumsily directed his limbs, feeling disconnected from each of them, as if he were dictating someone else's movements. But eventually the all consuming darkness was pierced by rays of sunlight, and his reality became a murky, rusted red.

Copper lived in his tongue. It seeped into his gums and stained his teeth as he rose through the depths. His fingers sifted through the thick, oily liquid that surrounded him. Something was below him. A dark flitting shape that lanced through the ocean's bosom, it seared through the endless sea of red with twin spotlights. He kicked frantically against the suffocating flow, and left blossoms of purple bruises in his wake. He had to get out. He could hear the radio, and he had to G E T O U T-

Pine Tree surfaced with a wailing, choking gasp, emerging from the red below onto the tainted earth above. Wet clay and soil mingled in a dark orange slurry under his clawing fingers. He pulled himself from his earthen grave and rolled onto a patch of grass that stung like pins. He opened his eyes, and the blood smeared sky stared back. The heavens were split in twain, dyed an alien red by the fracture that ran through it. Interdimensional energies swirled in chaotic clouds around it, painted colors that had no names.

Above the earth and below the sky, a geometrical shape that shimmered and twisted in an otherworldly manner hung over the forest he was encapsulated in. Towering redwoods were dwarfed by the monolithic structure; a pyramid of shining gold bricks. Swarms of bulging eyeballs circled its peak, kept aloft by leathery wings as dripping optic nerves trailed behind them. (WhoeverwhoeverWHOEVER) He crawled his way deeper into the forest, hearing distant screams and other, unholier noises.

He emerged out into a clearing, which was home to a large, irregularly shaped object that shuddered and fluttered erratically. He peered closer, and realized it was a swarm of moths. He approached with squelching footsteps, the earth itself giving way under his feet. The swarm became aware of his presence, scattering in different directions and howling in miniscule voices. One fluttered past his nose, and he caught a glimpse of a canine snout and saliva soaked teeth. The object they had gathered upon was revealed, and he wasted no time in inspecting it.

The half eaten corpse of an enormous infant as old as time itself stared back at him. He uttered a weak cry and stumbled backwards, squeezing his eyes shut and turning away to avoid the haunting sight. When he opened them again, he was standing on shattered concrete in the middle of a town that could never be forgotten. Towering creatures composed of abstract shapes and gruesome limbs lumbered through the empty streets. An insectean creature of metal and glass and wires skittered past, sparks leaping from the ends of its limbs. His gaze turned up, towards the absurdly large pyramid in the distance.

And it gazed upon him as well. An all seeing eye was thrust towards him at speeds impossible for any organic creature to reach. It blinked at him through two sets of eyelids, sclera dyed a sickly yellow and pupil dark enough to drag him into nonexistence. It was set in the middle of the forehead of a being composed of six crooked arms and a pair of uselessly dangling legs. Its skin was tar black, run through with veins of molten red and stretched painfully tight over razor sharp joints and rigid bone. A mouth like a bear trap turned up into a sickening grin, exposing a legion of steel needles. (SomEOnE) He stared uncomprehendingly at the twisted being before him. It crooned at him in a crackling voice, lips unmoving.

"Their eyes are open, yet blind they remain. Wandering the dark, they know only pain. With one eye open, I can see. So I may grasp eternity. The end approaches, it is nigh; I ascend from darkness, I'm on the rise. The yellow beast with just one eye; when gravity falls, they will know DEMISE." A scream ripped from both of them as it lunged towards him, arms grasping and teeth exposed in a sawtooth grin-

Landrin woke with a muffled cry, eyes flinging open to reveal darkness. Panic roared inside him as he realized he couldn't breathe, and he wrenched his head upwards with a weak gasp. He panted for breath and stared straight downwards. His pillow. He was in bed. He turned onto his side and flopped back down, sucking in as much air as he could consume. It took him a moment to register vision once more, but once he did he found his eyes locked onto a shoulder composed of sickly skin and protruding bone, illuminated by the lamp on his desk.

It had been a while since he'd had a nightmare, he realized. They stopped right when Bill had appeared. Apparently his brain didn't feel the need to torment him at night, when there was a walking nightmare already present in his waking world. Before that it had all been agonizing slideshows of Bright Eyes. He'd always woken up alone, in the dark, tears streaming down his face. The only way he'd been able to calm down was to look at text conversations between himself and his sister.

Only... that wasn't his sister. Mabel was Dipper's sister. Stan and Ford were Dipper's great uncles. Landrin's eyes dulled like marbles, and he stared unblinking into the partially concealed form of his last tether to reality. Landrin didn't have any family. He scooted across the mattress, pressing his face into a warm shoulder and snaking his arms around an emaciated torso. Bill was the only thing he had. Bill had made him, and could unmake him. He just needed to (DELUDE LIE PRETEND DECEIVE) realize that Bill Cipher was the only thing that made his life worth living in any capacity.

Landrin wondered how long that would last.


	31. Hurt

The bleak morning dawned, and Landrin was jolted by the pulse of awakening. He(theywhoSOMEONE) was greeted by the bitter scent of living carcass, mingled with a perfume of... pancakes? His eyelids parted to reveal glossy eyeballs, which flickered back and forth to scan their surroundings. The blinds were open, and let weak grey sunlight spill onto the floor. His door was open as well, and there was a trail of liquid droplets leading through it. And directly in his face was-

"MORNING," Bill screeched, grin stretching beyond the fabric of reality. His hair was a completely wind torn mess, and he appeared to actually be fully dressed. Landrin usually had to force him into clothing in the mornings. A prominent eyeball locked directly onto his face, and it took as much concentration as he could muster in his sleep addled state to look away. The demon was kneeling over him, one arm locking him in as the other held up a plastic tray, which was covered in various foodstuffs: a plate of pancakes, drowned in syrup and whipped cream, a three quarters full glass of what appeared to be orange juice, a completely peeled banana, and.. a cheeseburger? Landrin squinted at it, and realized it looked like one from a local burger joint. "Well, do you like-"

"Bill, did you-" They both paused in the middle of interrupting each other. After a moment of Bill surprisingly staying quiet, Landrin tried again. "Did you drive my car?" His voice was weak and slurred, conveying precious little of the panic that threatened to overflow.

Bill's expression fell from its overly bright and unintentionally menacing cheer. "Yeah, what about it? You made it clear I wasn't supposed to cook breakfast for you, so I went out and bought some. I was gonna wake you up and make you take ME to breakfast, but you were out cold. Guess actually doing things is wearing you out, huh Pine Tree?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Landrin replied absently, rubbing at his eye with one hand. It came away with a light helping of sticky crust, and he grimaced. "I, uh. I really can't eat this in bed, and-is my car okay? Are all the doors still on it?"

Whatever was left of Bill's good mood shattered on the floor. He shot up abruptly, the contents of the tray shifting around from the sudden movement. "YES, you PRECIOUS car is in one piece. I didn't FLING IT OFF THE ROAD, like some sort of CRAZY person might do." Utter vitriol spilled from Bill's twisted lips, but the mask of anger on his face wobbled uncontrollably. He raised the tray, clearly intending to throw it in Landrin's face, but paused. Something pained flashed over his expression, breaking the veneer of cruelty. He climbed off the bed and slammed the tray down on Landrin's cluttered desk, then turned to leave. "Enjoy your disgusting human food," he grit out, and slammed the door behind him before Landrin could even utter a word.

He(DipperwasDEAD) stared blankly at his firmly closed door, trying to piece together exactly what had happened. Bill stole his car, stole his money, (presumably) spilled orange juice on his floor, and then became so upset that he stormed out of the room. Landrin sighed and sat all the way up, shoving his face into his hands. Had he done something wrong? It didn't seem likely. Maybe Bill was just being strange and enigmatic again. Yeah, that was as good an explanation as any. He slowly stumbled out of bed, sheets and bedcovers trailing around his legs. He glanced at the abandoned tray of food, and felt his stomach protest at the sheer quantity. There was no way he could eat all of that in one sitting, and his time would be better spent seeing what was up with Bill. With a plan in mind, Landrin began laboriously pulling on articles of clothing.

Bill stomped down the stairs with as much force as he could exert, and their carpeted coverings muffled his steps to ensure that he couldn't even derive pleasure from their creaks and groans. He considered breaking something, but the thought of the way Pine Tree would look at him made him feel too... not annoyed, he realized. Guilty was a more fitting word. If Pine Tree would get angry with him, he could at least be angry back. But Bill knew he'd be DISAPPOINTED instead, and the mere thought made him feel squirmy and terrible. More-so than he already felt, at least. He'd put in so much effort to try and do something for Pine Tree, something that DIDN'T involve tearing him apart, whether it be physically, mentally, or emotionally, and he didn't even get any appreciation for it. It made him feel so... enraged, and agitated, and violent, and-

Hurt. Bill froze as if cast in cement, standing aimlessly in the middle of the living room. The thought that Pine Tree saw him only as this creature that destroyed everything it touched, and was incapable of anything else... it hurt him, and he didn't understand why. He didn't CARE what some snivelling little human thought... right? But if that was the case, then why did his chest ache so badly? Why did- Bill started violently as he realized something moist and stinging was building in his eyes. There was no possible way. He was a trillion year old dream demon, Master of the Mind and Eye of Providence, he practically kept these stupid apes from going extinct all on his own, and now one of them was- what, making him cr... leak saline? All because he didn't thank Bill for getting him breakfast?

It had to be this stupid hunk of grey matter, with its archaic electrical impulses and chemical compositions. It was making him experience emotion without his say so, and it absolutely infuriated him. He slammed the heel of his palm against his forehead in aggravation, and only accomplished making it sting. He didn't find it very funny at the moment. He twitched with the urge to- do something. To break and maim and distract himself from these useless emotions, but.. wouldn't that just prove Pine Tree right? Wouldn't that prove that he was just a senseless, chaotic monster? But when had he ever had a problem being that? He was capable of endless destruction, and had always reveled in that fact, but now.. He growled helplessly, caught in indecisive turmoil.

And that was how Landrin found him, only a few moments later. The demon was mumbling incomprehensibly, and methodically yanking out loose threads from his sleeve. "You're going to ruin your shirt doing that," Landrin spoke softly. Bill whirled around, teeth bared in a horrifying grimace.

"Well EXCUSE ME, I don't believe I ASKED FOR YOUR OPINION. In fact, I was HOPING you would CHOKE on that disgusting excuse for food I so painstakingly acquired for you." Bill yanked on another thread, before he realized the cuff on the end of his sleeve was held down by it. He swiftly broke the end off, face flushed with anger.

Landrin found himself completely unsettled by the state of Bill. Other than brief flashes of anger as his triangular form, he'd never seen Bill so... undone, before. He was red faced and huffing out harsh breaths, tooth marks apparent on his lips. He was surprised the demon hadn't broken right through the skin and spilled his own blood. One less thing to clean up, at least. "Is this really about the breakfast? Look, I appreciate you-"

"WELL IT SURE DIDN'T SOUND LIKE IT," Bill snapped out, his exclamation slamming Pine Tree's worthless platitudes out of the air. "All I hear is 'Bill, did you break something?' 'Bill, don't eat that dog!' 'Bill, you can't do that, Bill, you can't touch that, Bill, you're going to BREAK IT'. You treat me like an ANIMAL, you WORTHLESS PRIMATE. You- after everything I've done, you treat me like garbage-" Bill clenched his mouth shut as Pine Tree broke into hysterical laughter.

"What you've ' _done_ ' for me? Let's go through what you've done _to_ me, huh?" Dipper (DeaddeadDEAD IT WAS ALL A LIE) sucked in a shuddering breath, and felt the weight of reality crash into him like a meteorite. "Y-you invaded my uncle's mind to help Gideon destroy his home and business, you stole my body to try and destroy the Journals, you nearly caused  _the apocalypse_ , you- you k-killed my sister-" He choked on his next breath, tears springing unbidden even as he grit his teeth to try and force them back. "You invaded my home, tormented me for weeks, and now because you've gotten bored of stomping me into dust, you're suddenly this paragon of goodness? SHUT YOUR MOUTH, I'M NOT DONE TALKING," he shouted, as loud as he had ever dared speak to the demon in reality. They were both stunned into silence for all of a moment, before Dipper(itwasallrealhecouldn'tpretend)'s flood began raging once more. "You've ruined my _entire_ life, and now you're sticking around to pretend like you're making things better. You're _NOT_. You destroy everything you touch, and you do it on purpose. You said yourself that you took satisfaction from breaking me down into.. into  _nothing_. You're a monster, and you know it-"

"WELL MAYBE I DON'T WANT THAT ANYMORE!" The echo of Bill's scream rang out through the cavernous room for several short moments. When it had finally faded, a bitter silence descended in its wake. "Maybe... maybe I don't want that, right now. Maybe I feel guilty for what I did. Maybe I don't understand what's happening to me, and- and it's.." Bill trailed off, unable to find the correct word. He knew every word in the English language, and somehow the ones used to describe his own feelings still remained elusive.

Dipper bit his lip, faltering in his hostile stance. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel something other than empty despair for once in.. a very long time. But all he felt was infuriating empathy. Bill just looked so lost, so unsure despite his trillion years of wisdom, and his incredible store of knowledge. Apparently the only thing Bill Cipher didn't know was himself. But Dipper wasn't just letting him off the hook. "...I don't want to yell at you, anymore. It doesn't accomplish anything. But if we keep talking, it'll happen again. I- I need to be alone, for a little while, okay? Then we can... I don't know. Work something out."

Bill clenched his fists, and they scarcely had enough room to fit all of his fingers. "..Whatever," he muttered, unable to come up with something clever and biting. Or possibly just unwilling to do so. He shook the thought off like the parasite it was, and turned to park himself on the couch. He slid underneath a hand knitted quilt, and said nothing more.

"I'll just.. yeah." Dipper shuffled his feet, before abruptly turning to head back upstairs. He ignored the trail of orange juice in the hall, and closed his bedroom door behind him. He slid down it, back pressed against cool wood. He closed his eyes, and let the world seep in. There wasn't any pretending, anymore. Dipper Pines was alive, for as long as that would last.

When Bill rose later in the evening, he found an empty tray on the kitchen counter.


	32. Time

Three days. Seventy two hours. Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes. Bill frowned, and struggled to convert his torment into seconds, but finally gave up with a huff of aggravation after a moment. It wasn't worth his time, and math had been one of the many things he'd skimped out on upon loading this brain with knowledge. He shook his head, attempting to rattle his thoughts back into order. What mattered was that Pine Tree hadn't spoken to him in three days, and Bill... as was becoming appallingly frequent in recent days, he had no idea what to do.

The most interaction that happened between the two was when Pine Tree would utter a paltry, nigh incomprehensible 'thank you' whenever Bill was feeling (KNND MOPJFUL DESUJRATE) bored enough to bring up something for him to eat. He'd stare at Pine Tree's lax, unreadable expression, and frantically scream at himself to say something. But nothing ever came out. He would stalk out of the room and berate himself the moment he cleared the door. It was absolutely maddening, and Bill fancied that he knew a thing or two about madness.

He'd return after an hour of thinking in circles, and retrieve a tray still containing a portion of its original contents. He'd once asked Pine Tree how the food was, and had received naught but a shrug in return. Bill had left before he could say something that might unearth the groaning iron shackles of his guilt. He'd sullenly pick at the food leftover until nothing remained, and he had a feeling Pine Tree knew this. Nothing ever had bites taken out of it; foodstuffs were always carefully pulled apart, or cut cleanly with a utensil. Bill felt conflicted on the matter. One one hand, it seemed as though Pine Tree were just humoring him, as he might do one of those detestable human children. On the other... Bill felt a quiet (THFNKKULNJSS) appreciation for the gesture. It left Bill feeling almost... (1()^3D)

He shook the thought, deeming it unimportant. All he knew was that this could not continue. Bill had no idea what to do with himself anymore. He took Pine Tree's car out multiple times a day, but that little fuel meter was getting dangerously low, and Bill wasn't.. entirely sure on how to acquire more. Never mind the fact that Pine Tree's wallet was growing light, and Bill didn't have immediate access to any of his gold stashes. He should've known that Venezuela would be a terrible place to store gold. He could probably steal some money with ease, but thinking of the way Pine Tree would look at him upon finding out (there was no way he wouldn't find out) made Bill's chest constrict like a pit of vipers.

Disappointing Pine Tree was... Bill still didn't understand why, but it just wasn't an option. The thought hurt him too much for it to be allowed. The reasoning behind these multitudinous pseudo-physical sensations was lost to him. What sort of evolutionary advantage did this give to those apes? He tentatively supposed that it was part of a collective mentality; hurting others of your kind hurts progress overall. It was simply something Bill had trouble grasping, considering everything he'd ever done and was ever going to do benefited him and him alone. The idea of working to accomplish something to better others was completely alien to him.

Only.. wasn't that what he was trying to do? If he really didn't care, he wouldn't bother doing things for Pine Tree. He wouldn't convince the little idiot to get out of the house, or ask him what he wanted to do, or bring him things to eat. If Bill didn't care, then Pine Tree would have been dead the moment he'd grown bored of his tormenting. When Bill was bored, he loved nothing more than to twist and break and destroy. But... what came after that?

Three days. Seventy two hours. Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes. Dipper glanced down at the calculator app on his phone. Two hundred, fifty nine thousand and two hundred seconds. That was how long it had been since he'd truly spoken to Bill. Every single second had been... tumultuous. He felt icy fresh pulses of relief flow through him at his newfound solitude, even as crippling loneliness decayed his internal systems.

Most acutely, he experienced exhaustion. Despite spending most of those three days in bed, he'd done precious little sleeping. Endlessly cycling trains of thought ran through his head, each one leading him only where he had begun. He just didn't know what to do anymore, which was a state he'd found himself mired in for... years, now. Of course, it had never been as strong as during these last few weeks. But Bill had always had that effect on him. Every encounter with the demon had been a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty, whipping him about from place to place before he could find his footing and figure something out.

Only.. none of that had been real, right? Hadn't he come to the conclusion that Bill had orchestrated everything to let them win? That was what it felt like, at least. When he really thought about it, everything seemed so stupidly obvious. There was no way a pair of twelve year olds could ever hope to outsmart a nigh omniscient trillion year old dream demon. He was simply playing with them, entertaining himself before his rise to complete power. If Dipper's dreams were anything to go by, the apocalypse would have been a true terror to behold. What he didn't understand was how things hadn't gone according to plan. Well, he  _knew_ what had happened, of course; he just didn't know how things had taken such a course. Surely Bill had known how to manipulate events to his desired outcome, right? Then how had things gone so wrong for him in the end?

Dipper shook his head, attempting to dislodge the errant thought. That wasn't important at the moment. He needed to focus on the present, because the past was cast in stone. His problems now were of a much more intimate variety than preventing the calamity that was the end of existence. He almost laughed at how pathetic he seemed. Locked away in his room because he didn't know how to talk to his demon roommate who had killed his sister and then spent weeks torturing him mentally and emotionally. He could have done something rational, something along the lines of avenging his sister, or trying to escape with his life, or even... ending his own torment. Instead he wanted to mend and improve his relationship with this murderous beast from beyond his plane of existence. Dipper really did laugh, and it sounded like a death rattle.

Dipper needed to think rationally about this. The problem was, nothing was rational anymore. There was nothing logical or sensible or well thought out about trying to play house with a demon. There was no reasonable explanation for his physical attraction to a creature that looked as though it had spawned straight from an independent horror film. Not one iota of sense could be found in his desire to connect with this sadistic, violent, sociopathic, megalomaniacal nightmare that had ruined him so perfectly.

But maybe that was why he wanted to connect. Maybe it was because there was nothing left. Stan and Ford were on the other side of the planet (couldn't find out couldn't EVER let them find out) and his parents were on the opposite end of the country, never mind his somewhat strained relationship with them. Soos and Wendy were living their own lives, and didn't deserve to have him barge in with his problems. There really was nowhere to go. Eventually (if he wasn't dead) everything would catch up with him. At the very best, he'd be shunned for the rest of his life, disowned and discarded for his blatant sins. At worst... he shuddered to think of what Bill might do to everyone, with his newfound physicality. Dipper still had no idea what the demon was capable of, beyond his dizzying strength, inhuman flexibility, and a maw of teeth that could surely rend flesh with ease.

So that left him with only two options. He could try to ease his suffering by forging something between himself and Bill, or he could end his suffering permanently. The second option was... he wouldn't bother lying; it was incredibly tempting. But that was too easy. He didn't deserve an easy way out of the catastrophe he'd concocted. And with the way Bill spoke of favorites and feelings, Dipper wasn't sure what he might do, were his beloved human to cease existing.

Dipper had no choice but to stick around and make sure nothing else could happen. Don't think. Appease Bill. Don't let anyone else get hurt. He grit his teeth and tried to shake loose the thought that had burrowed barbed hooks into his brain stem. It latched on like a moray eel, and he didn't possess the strength to pry it off. He tried to distract himself, but his thoughts merely looped back around, again and again. The only way he could move forward was if he knew what Bill wanted. And there was only one way to accrue that knowledge.

Dipper waited until the demon arrived with a tray of food, some few hours later. It was loaded with objects that looked mildly appetizing, but still left Dipper feeling slightly nauseous. He'd had to make more than one trip to the bathroom to regurgitate what he couldn't digest. His gaze flickered from the tray of foodstuffs to Bill's face, which was as easy to read as ever. Hope. Despair. Apprehension. Anger. Dipper slowly stood from bed, painfully aware of the way Bill ground to a halt, emotions flitting over his face. He smiled tentatively, and it felt foreign on his face.

"I think we should talk."


	33. Mending

A bitter silence poured from Bill like a flood of frigid arctic waters. He turned as if he were a rusted automaton, jerking and twitching as he carefully set down the tray of food. His head snapped back to lock his piercing gaze on Dipper's face. "GOSH, I SURE AM GLAD that I FINALLY have PERMISSION to talk to you again. After all, it isn't like you PROMISED to stop ignoring me as long as I didn't do anything WRONG. And these past three days, Pine Tree? I don't know about you, but they've felt like a real DEALBREAKER. I-" Bill's tirade tapered off before it could truly begin, his pupil locked on the crumbling corners of Pine Tree's smile. Bill carefully inspected the human's shrinking posture, spine curving and shoulders hunching as he collapsed in on himself. A pulse of (UITY REMTWSE) understanding ebbed through him, and his raised hackles were slowly lowered. "...You said you didn't want to yell at me because it wouldn't accomplish anything. I guess yelling at you isn't getting me anywhere either."

Dipper felt something flare to life inside him; an infinitesimal twinkling light stranded amidst the dark, consuming void of despair. "Thank you. I know you're probably... angry, but arguing isn't going to make either of us feel better. We need to just.. sit down, and discuss things rationally. I know we can do that."

"Well we're here, aren't we? We're here and talking, so let's get this show on the road." Bill raised an eyebrow as Pine Tree brushed past him, making it a few paces beyond the demon before he turned and offered a hand. Bill carefully took the hand in his own, eyeing it like it was something precious. Then he squeezed it with his own gnarled fingers, as if it were something worth holding on to.

"We should be comfortable for this. Let's sit downstairs. Maybe I could order a pizza, or something." Dipper drew from the well of experience he had accrued over the years, from countless squabbles, disagreements, and hurt feelings between himself and Mabel. Whenever she took it upon herself to be the rational, forgiving one (which had been incredibly frequent) and decided to put in the effort to mend things, she'd always sat him down with their favorite pizza, or a tray of baked sweets bathed in glittery sprinkles. She'd throw blankets at him until he was practically suffocating underneath them, and turn down the lights. She'd speak in a low, calming voice, so unlike her normal bombast. It was always enough to defuse his desire to yell, or ignore her, or get up and leave. He'd be left to speak first most times, Mabel patiently waiting for him to get his thoughts and feelings properly organized and delivered. There wouldn't be any shouting, or disagreements. They'd simply state how they felt, and work through things together.

Of course, that would never happen again. Not as it had before. But he would emulate it as best he could. Letting Mabel's ideals live on through him was the greatest service he could give her. Other than the proper burial she would never get, he supposed. He waited until Bill and himself were settled on the living room couch, the demon wrapped in half a dozen blankets and the quilt Mabel had sewn herself draped around his own shoulders. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to go first, as an example. I will tell you very plainly what is bothering me. Please don't interrupt while I'm doing this. If you want to ask me anything, please do it now."

Bill did not even hesitate in opening his mouth. "Yeah, question. So, what exactly is this? Are we just gonna vomit feelings at each other and cry, or something? Let me tell you somethin' Pine Tree, I've seen my fair share of public access, and those drama shows are an absolute snorefest." Bill's tone was harsh and seeped in derision, but his face was open to expose the apprehension that lie underneath.

"If you really don't want to do this, I suppose I could just go back into my room and stop talking to you again-"

"Haha hey let's not be too hasty here, Pine Tree. I'm sure we have lots of interesting things to say to one another!" Bill's tone was as casual as Dipper's was unconcerned, but where Bill's face was a swirling pit of panic, Dipper's was a solid mask of uncaring.

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement." Dipper almost felt pride at being able to coerce the demon into doing what he wanted, but it was rotted through by the knowledge that this was the exact sort of thing Bill took so much pleasure in doing. "Okay, I'll start. Just... don't interrupt." He fell silent for a long moment, words welling up and dissipating inside his chest. He tried to gather them and collect them into neat little categories, but then he realized something. The whole point of this exercise was to let his feelings flow freely, instead of bottling them up and picking which were allowed to see the light of day. So instead he opened his mouth, and spoke.

"You, Bill Cipher, killed my twin sister, Mabel Pines." He sucked in a breath, the mere act of speaking the words skewering him right through the chest. But he spoke on, because it was all he could do. "This isn't something I could ever forget, for as long as I live. It is something for which I will never be able to forgive you, no matter what you do or say. You did something to me that hurt me more than any other atrocity you could ever hope to commit, and you did it with passion and pride. You were happy that you wounded me so deeply."

He could see the shame and indignation that were coalescing on Bill's face, mouth opened to exclaim something, most likely in his own defense. Dipper made sure to shut that down as quickly as he could. "That might not be the case anymore, but at the time you were overjoyed to lord the fact that she was dead over me, and compounded it with emotional and psychological abuse. You took advantage of my damaged mental and emotional state, taking things that had hurt or were already hurting me and using them to make the pain even more acute. And then you grew bored of hurting me. For whatever reason, instead of killing me like it would have been so easy for you to do, you decided to stick around and act like you wanted me to be happy again. It.. confused me, more than anything else."

He took a deep, calming breath, and tried to quell the trembling of his extremities. Saying all of this out loud made everything so horribly real, and he wasn't sure how he'd handle it without falling apart all over again. "I didn't understand why you would do something like that, and I'm not sure I do even now. All I knew was that, for whatever reason, I was growing attached to you. When you weren't tormenting me, you were almost like a friend. And I think that scared me more than the thought of you continuing to hurt me.

"Knowing that I was forming a connection with someone that had taken away my sister... I couldn't handle it. So I... lost myself, for a while. I pretended to be someone else, pretended that the me I am was dead." He smiled humorlessly, his eyes as lifeless as marbles. "It didn't work out very well.

"I couldn't delude myself into thinking that every horrible thing you'd done to me had been done to someone else. And when that became so clear that I couldn't ignore it anymore, I.. blew up at you. Maybe it was justified, and maybe it wasn't. I just... I just know that being upset and hating you doesn't do anything. If you're going to be around, I want to at least have a workable relationship with you. And... I think if Mabel hadn't died, and she could see you now... she'd want to be your friend too." Dipper closed his eyes so as to avoid having to see whatever expression Bill might manufacture in response to his words. "Okay, you can go."

Bill blinked, and regained control of his slacked jaw. "This is, uh... quite the sharing fest, huh?" He didn't receive any audible response. Pine Tree just parted his eyelids, and stared him down with glistening eyes. "I... I'll just go." He cleared his throat, and let all his frustration seep in. But instead of letting it explode back outwards, he channeled it into clear, concise words.

"You, Dipper Pines, ruined a plan that I had put in motion at the dawn of human civilization. For millenia I carefully nudged your species into the direction I needed them to head in, so that I could finally be freed, and free you in return from the mundanity of reality. As I reached my zenith, moments away from enacting my ultimate plan, you put a stop to it." Bill spoke through teeth that slowly clenched with anger, but he did his best to reign it in. Yelling wouldn't fix anything. Being angry wouldn't undo what had been done.

"I had originally seen you as nothing more than a brief form of entertainment. You had spirit and will, and I thought it was funny that you believed you could stand up to me. So, instead of incinerating you, I decided it'd be more fun to let you run around and pretend to solve your little 'mysteries'." Bill could see something tense in the tendons of Pine Tree's jaw, but otherwise there was no outward reaction.

"Unfortunately for me, you proved to be more than that. When Fordsie got back from his vacation between dimensions, you proved yourself to be courageous, resourceful, innovative, and loyal to your family. In the one moment where you should have chased your selfish desires, you refrained. The crack in the rift was sealed, and then ol' six fingers banished it into negative space, where I could never reach it. He always was a brilliant idiot." Bill's smile was bitter and soaked in hostility, but he said nothing openly malicious.

"So, considering I'd never make it back into braniac's Mindscape without explicit permission, I knew I wouldn't be able to enact my revenge unless things lined up perfectly for me. I just didn't have the patience to wait for that to happen, I suppose. So you were the next best thing, Pine Tree. An interesting, bright young mind to utterly ravage. So I watched, and waited, and observed your deterioration. You went from a promising academic to a hermit playing pretend at being a novelist. It was as good an opportunity as any, to strike when you were weakened. And lo and behold, before I could even make a move, an ancient evil that WASN'T me decided you looked like the perfect victim." There was a much more obvious reaction, this time. Bill watched some of the precious little color in Pine Tree's face drain away, and saw his pupils constrict.

"Bright Eyes did a number on you, that was for sure. It grew a festering little seed of impurity in you, and slowly ripped your memories right out of your head, only to shove them away in your own dreams. I thought I finally had my chance to take what was left of you, and use it for my personal gain. It'd be the one of the greatest personal injustices I could ever commit, as far as you and Fordsie are concerned." Bill's frown deepened as he tried to put himself back into that older mindset, and found it nigh impossible. "Of course, you somehow managed to trip me up yet again. I inadvertently triggered your memories, and gave you the power to defeat Bright Eyes and slip out from under my thumb. Needless to say, I wasn't pleased."

Bill licked the back of his teeth, feeling something jittery and unpleasant in his abdomen. He did his best to ignore it. "I worked for a few months to find the perfect tool to bring me into the physical world. Some greedy shmuck that'd do anything for riches. Apparently that included transmuting a human body. Of course, he was too much of a moron to get it completely right, but... I don't think I mind the imperfections too much." Bill's grin displayed every single tooth in his mouth, and he could practically feel how hard Pine Tree shuddered.

"And then... then, I uh." Bill swallowed something that felt like glass shards and gravel. He watched as Pine Tree dulled until he was nearly lifeless. They both knew what came next. "I killed her. I killed Shooting Star, because I knew it would hurt you worse than anything else. I tormented you endlessly, trying to bend you as far as I could until you snapped. But the longer I spent with you, in this meat body, the more I felt... bad. Guilty. Like what I was doing was wrong. I knew it was wrong from a moralistic standpoint, of course. I'd just never cared before. But something about these brain chemicals, and having such an intimate view into your degradation..." He took a breath, and held it with clenched fists. But eventually he had to let go.

"I didn't want to hurt you anymore," Bill admitted, almost more to himself than anything. "I told myself it was boring, it wasn't fun anymore, there was no way to break you down more than I already had. But the damage was already done, even when I decided to treat you differently. You became worse and worse, crumbling into dust. And it... hurt, me. It hurt me to watch you descend into nothing. You weren't the Pine Tree I knew, anymore. You were someone else. Someone less than my favorite human. The one that makes a horrible warmth grow in my chest when I see you smile, or hear you laugh. The one that makes sour acids gnaw at my bones when you cry, and give in to despair. And those feelings... I don't understand them. They're nothing I've ever experienced before, and I don't know what to do with them anymore. I don't know what to do with YOU anymore. I want... to be around you. To make you smile and laugh. Because I've never done that before, not really. Nobody has ever wanted to be around the real me, for a trillion years. And I didn't understand that, in the Nightmare Realm. I.." Bill tore his gaze away, blinking rapidly and sawing his teeth back and forth in frustration. "I didn't understand loneliness. But I think I do now."

A blanket of silence billowed out over them. They sat together in a dimly lit living room, on opposite ends of a couch. Dipper reached out, and coaxed an eight fingered hand between his own too palms. He grasped it with tender pressure, staring into a pupil that swam with the inky darkness of the empty space between stars. "..Thank you for doing this with me."

"I'd say don't get all touchy feely on me, but we already had our cliche soul bearing episode, so we can't get much lower." Where Bill's voice should have been loud and snarky, it was instead a lost murmur, words created by it almost subconsciously. He used Pine Tree's hands as a tether, pulling the human closer. He had an unfathomable need for contact that he desperately hoped to quench. Pine Tree seemed to get the message, for he closed the distance between them until they were side by side, knees and shoulders touching through layers of fabric.

"...Everything will get better," Dipper promised, mostly to himself. He was still hurting inside; how could he not be? Mabel's death was a fresh, bloody wound that Bill had spent weeks picking apart with tweezers, and then he'd attempted to sew it shut with fumbling hands and lengths of twine. Dipper just had to appreciate the thought behind it. He had helped this demon learn to feel real, human emotions, and Bill hadn't even ignored them. He'd acted on feelings he didn't understand, and tried to make up for his transgressions that he had barely even realized were mistakes. Bill had tried to breathe some small spark of life back into a crumbling corpse, and Dipper had to appreciate the effort. He closed his eyes, and leaned into the warm body beside him. He let words flow through him; a promise meant for Bill alone.

"Everything will get better."


	34. Planning

As time wore on, contact was renewed and replenished, swiftly and surely. As words were shared and feelings were bared, a frayed and tattered thread of connection was reconstituted, strengthened and solidified by careful attention. Dipper could not put a name to this connection he shared with Bill, but he was tentatively hopeful that it would be something positive for the both of them. If there was one thing he was severely lacking in, it was positivity.

And personal hygiene, it seemed. Dipper had neglected himself for a while now, and his olfactory senses were beginning to take notice. He rose from his bed, making a mental note to wash his sheets, and trudged over to an abandoned pile of clothing that had been strewn across the floor. He plucked a few clean articles from the amorphous mass of cloth, dressing himself and exiting his room. He was honestly surprised that Bill hadn't bothered him in the four minutes he'd been awake. Usually the demon was dragging him out of bed at this point. He detoured right around the bathroom, standing at the top of the stairs and straining to listen for any signs of Bill.

The television buzzed with idle chatter, and the microwave was humming as it used concentrated radiation to cook something edible, and also make it slightly less edible. He could see the blur of Bill's oxfords by the front door, and that cemented his position inside the house. Satisfied, Dipper turned on a heel and tromped into the bathroom, flicking on the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. He closed the door behind him and methodically removed the clothes he had only just adorned himself in. The closet was relieved of a pair of towels (his hair had grown long enough to require a towel of its own; he really needed a haircut) that he placed on the countertop. He opened the shower door, and his fingertips just brushed the handle to get the water flowing when he heard something.

Creaking hinges. Dipper felt something primitive and deeply ingrained pulse through him, raw terror blazing in its wake. He whirled around and came face to face with Bill, who was so uncomfortably close that all Dipper could see was shining teeth and a single bright eye. His scream echoed off the tile floor, and he managed to reach an octave that hurt his own ears. Bill didn't even flinch, just waiting patiently for his Pine Tree to cease overreacting. Dipper panted for breath, shaking with nerves and adrenaline. "What is _wrong_ with you? Why do you _always_ have to scare me in the bathroom?"

"Because you can't hit me with anything in here," Bill explained casually. He cackled at the flat look he earned for his remark. "Just kidding! I didn't mean to scare you, even if it is kind of funny. I wanted to talk with you about something, actually. Something that doesn't involve your microwave that may or may not still be functioning."

"Please don't tell me you broke the microwave," Dipper groaned, placing both palms over his eyes. He heaved a sigh, and sniffed the air. Nothing was burning, as far as he could tell. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of attempting to take a shower, here." He paused for a beat, and then felt liquid red seep into his face as he realized his own nudity. Sure, it wasn't like Bill hadn't seen (and touched) it all before, but it was a natural reaction on Dipper's part. Being easily flustered was one of his strong suits. And if Bill's leering grin was any indication, the demon very much appreciated that fact about him.

"No, I didn't break the microwave. IT broke my lunch." Bill stewed in agitation for a moment, and it was apparent on his face. He cleared his throat, clapping his hands together to produce a sharp, attention grabbing sound. "BUT! That's unimportant. And so is your shower. What I want to talk to you about is-"

"Are you _sure_ this can't wait until after I shower?" Dipper just about pleaded, practically able to feel the grime settled in his pores. His hair was certainly an oily mess, and he desperately required a date with his razor. "I kinda stink right now, and I'd like to rectify that."

Bill bared his teeth, growing visibly annoyed. "Fine, take your stupid shower! ...But I'm going to yell what I need to talk about at you while you do it," he concluded, his annoyance quickly draining away to be replaced by smug pride. He looked moments away from striking a pose and waiting to be showered in praise and accolades.

"Alright, I guess I can live with that," Dipper attempted to say over Bill's triumphant cackling. "Just try to keep the yelling to a tolerable level. The last thing we need is a noise complaint." He turned his back on the razor toothed murder demon and climbed into the shower, attempting to shut the door behind him. Instead there was a blockage, followed shortly by a strained giggle. He turned once more to see Bill halfway in the shower, his head caught in the door. "What are you doing."

Bill grinned as brightly as a thermonuclear detonation. "Joining you, obviously! Makes it easier to yell at you." He began stripping off his clothes, tossing them over the door and onto the tile on the other side of the glass enclosed shower. "Besides, I could use a cleansing as well, AND this saves us water." Clearly having made his infallible and unfathomably salient point, Bill squeezed the rest of the way into the shower, which was just barely big enough to contain the both of them.

Dipper closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against the tiled wall in exasperation. "You are the literal incarnation of ridiculous," he muttered, reaching for the handle and turning on the spray. He relished the startled yelp as the smug demon was pelted with icy water.

"Better than being the hypothetical incarnation of ridiculous, I suppose," Bill replied pleasantly, once he was done being assaulted by a frosty deluge. He basked in the quickly warming spray, before remembering why he was even in there in the first place. "Oh, right, I wanted to talk to you. It's about money; specifically, our lack of it. I, ah... my 'ventures' outside have led me to miscalculate how much is actually contained in your wallet, and I might have perhaps possibly... spent it all."

Part of Dipper knew he should be angry at this news, or at the very least irritated, but all he felt was mild exasperation. "You know I can just find an ATM and withdraw more cash from my account, right?"

"Of course I knew that!" Bill carefully filed away this new information. "But that's not the issue. I know you're not made of money, and you're certainly not earning any from a... 'job'." He made his own air quotes for emphatic purposes. "So, I'm here to propose a brilliant solution to your financial issues." Bill gestured grandiosely, accidentally knocking over the shampoo and forcing Dipper to scrabble around on the ground to get it.

"I don't _have_ any 'financial issues'," Dipper air quoted mockingly. "I have unemployment benefits." Dipper thought it prudent not to divulge how little time he had left to take advantage of those benefits. "I'm making enough money to keep us going, and if I have to I'll... find some part time jobs, or something."

Bill gasped in horror, lurching forward like an undead to wrap one arm around Dipper's shoulders, and use his free hand to squish his cheeks together. "Unthinkable! I won't let you submit to the capitalist regime! The soul sucking world of corporate control is an evil even greater than I, Pine Tree. Which is why I have a way better idea! Wanna hear it?" He forcibly nodded Dipper's head up and down despite the human's vehement protests. "I knew you would! Well, it just so happens that a few decades ago, I was being worshipped by a cute little cult in South America. My influence on the Aztecs stuck around all the way until 1902, when a sect of religious fanatics calling themselves 'The Heart of Montezuma' summoned me. I played around with them for a while, wreaked some havoc on the local populace and such, you know how it goes." He rolled his eyes at the impatient glare being leveled at him. "Alright alright, I know you don't care about that stuff. The POINT is that I had these shmucks bury a fortune's worth of gold, on the outskirts of Caracas in Venezuela. Their descendants have been keeping tabs on it ever since, and it's located right on the edge of the city limits."

Dipper wriggled out of the demon's confining grasp. "And how exactly does that help us? Venezuela is a dangerous place, Bill. It's not like we can just fly there and rent a hotel room, no problem. And I think whatever security they have at the airport is going to notice if we bring a bunch of gold back with us."

"Well that's why we smuggle it, obviously!" Bill patted Pine Tree on the head in a patronizing manner, and laughed at the stern look he earned. "Glad to see you've got some fire back, Pine Tree! You're gonna need that where we're goin'."

"This is an absolutely ridiculous idea. We're not going to Venezuela to get kidnapped, or murdered, or kidnapped _and_ murdered." Dipper lathered his hair in an incredibly staunch manner. "We'll figure something else out. There's still gold in Gravity Fal-"

"Nope. Nuh uh. Not going there ever again. Listen Pine Tree, I have two hundred and thirty five kilos of pure gold buried in some hodunk South American cesspool, and I have a legion of crazed fanatics that think I'm the manifestation of Tonatiuh that are willing to do anything I tell them to. How could you POSSIBLY think that this is a bad idea?" Bill stared in puzzlement at the flat look he received. "What, do I have something on my face?"

"You're actually insane," Dipper concluded. "And I don't mean in the maniacal dream demon from beyond the stars way. I mean real clinical insanity. This is the worst plan ever concocted. If we go to Venezuela, we are almost certainly going to get murdered on the first night. We might even be killed on the plane ride over!"

"Pine Tree.." Bill slid sinuously up to the human, gently resting both hands on either side of Pine Tree's face. He caught the human's gaze with his single eye, holding it with as much intensity as he could muster. "I wouldn't suggest this plan if I thought you'd be hurt. If anyone even THINKS of laying a hand on you, I'll remove all of their limbs and eat them. I just need to make a phone call, and I'll have everything secured. We'll be in and out in four days, at the most. Nothing will happen. We'll go to a safehouse, drink some fruity human alcohols, and leave on a private plane with our gold. You'll be a MILLIONAIRE, Pine Tree. You won't ever have to worry about money again. And you'll be perfectly safe. I promise."

Dipper blinked away the ring of fire that had seared into his vision. He turned his gaze away, and listened to the pattering of water on tile. He thought of his own promise that he'd made to Bill. Everything would get better. Maybe... this was just a step in that direction. "..Okay. I believe you." He caught a flash of Bill's sickening grin, and it filled his stomach with butterflies instead of roiling nausea.

"You'd better pack up, Pine Tree. We're in for a ride." 


	35. Warm

The morning sun blazed down on the landscape below, searing away the lingering remnants of the cool night air. The high humidity and nonexistent breeze warmed everything in the sun's direct rays to an almost uncomfortable temperature. The smell of gasoline hung heavy in the immediate area, under the shade of the petrol station's overhang. Dipper sucked in lungfuls of the oily air as he used trembling hands to pump gas into his car, and used his crumbling willpower to stave off a panic attack.

They'd left home at seven in the morning, due mostly in part to Dipper's insistence that they make it in time despite Bill's assurance that they could safely arrive at any time of day. The biggest issue was that he couldn't sleep; repeatedly napping through most of the days and half the nights had made proper rest a foreign, bizzare concept. It didn't help that he abhorred the thought of waiting around while intrusive thoughts swirled around in his head and outlined, in grave detail, how everything would go wrong and they'd both die horrible deaths at the hands of South American drug cartels. So he'd loaded the luggage he'd packed for both of them into the car while Bill played with the radio, and had driven for twenty agonizing minutes as Bill continued playing with the radio, only at a much higher volume. The exit off the interstate took them right to the airport, but Dipper was dangerously low on gas, and had decided to take a short detour. His decision was not at all influenced by Bill whining about needing snacks.

So that was how he found himself standing in front of Gabby's Lion Mart, shaking apart at the seams as Bill perused the mart itself for edibles to take on the plane, even though Dipper had reiterated multiple times that the airport itself had restaurants for them to eat at. He couldn't imagine what sort of horrors Bill might unleash on the unwitting employees in the store-rather, he didn't _want_ to imagine them. But he couldn't exactly leave his car unattended as he pumped gas, unless he wanted to create a horrible mess at best, or send the entire station up in a billowing ball of fire at worst.

The exact moment that the numbers on the pumping station ticked over to just below the amount needed to fill his tank, Dipper was fumbling to reattach the hose to its receptacle and simultaneously sprint towards the store in a mad dash to preserve innocent life. He nearly ran into the door, just barely remembering that he had to open it before he could get through. "BILL!"

The store was dead silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner. The bored looking teenager behind the counter snapped his gum and sent Dipper an irritated glare, and an elderly man perusing a rack of magazines sent him a concerned look. He flushed, and his eyes darted over to- there. He awkwardly shuffled over to the demon, who was perusing snacks and had absolutely without question heard him shout. "Bill, we're.. going to miss our flight." He felt the burning itch of twin gazes leave him, and shuddered out a silent sigh of relief.

Bill ceased inspecting a bag of 'Onion-o O's' and turned at the sound of his favorite human's voice, expression immediately brightening from its previous intensity. "Hm? Oh, Pine Tree! Look at this thing I found!" He fumbled through his pockets, eventually pulling out an air freshener meant to be hung from a rear view mirror. It was in the shape of a pine tree.

"...Of course. Very cute," Dipper sighed, resisting the urge to press a hand over his chest to check that his heart hadn't imploded. "Look, we really should be going. I filled up the tank, so finish picking out what you want." He watched warily as Bill's bright grin faded into quiet contemplation. He squeaked in an incredibly masculine manner as an arm was suddenly slung around his waist, and he was lifted just high enough that his feet couldn't touch the floor. "Bill, what are you _doing_ -"

"You said to pick out what I wanted, right?" Bill grinned wide enough to swallow a human head as confusion flashed through Pine Tree's eyes, before embarassment quickly bled into his face. "Red's a good color on you, Pine Tree!"

"You're so stupid, put me _down_ ," Dipper demanded, trying to ignore the pleased little flutter in his heart. Likely just life threatening palpitations, he convinced himself. It was certainly preferable to the alternative. He caught a glimpse of a pout before Bill acquiesced and set him back on his feet. "I don't know why you need snacks anyway. We can just eat at the airport."

"Because, disgusting greasy morsels pumped full of preservatives and sealed in plastic bags with nitrogen are a marvel of human engineering, and should be celebrated!" Bill made to open his bag of 'Koretos' so that he could eat them for emphatic purposes, but they were quickly snatched out of his hands by a deft fingered Pine Tree. "Hey, I was going to eat those!" Bill protested.

"We have to _pay_ for these things, Bill. That's why we're taking this trip in the first place, _remember?_ " Dipper felt something warm and bubbling well up inside him at the pitiful look on the demon's monstrous face, and he attributed it to sheer exasperation and nothing that could be considered positive whatsoever.

"Of course I know that! I was just going to let you pay AFTER I ate them, is all." He impetuously gathered four bags of 'Ryder's' chocolate coated pretzels, as well as a can of 'Singles' potato chips. "And these. Are you sure I can't eat these yet?"

"...I'm cutting you off. That's the last of your snacks," Dipper stated firmly, despite the open horror that quickly formed on the demon's face. "Don't give me that look; you brought this on yourself."

"But Pine Tree, how will I ever survive on these measly rations?! I do say I might starve before the winter is out!" Bill pantomimed a faint with one hand, as he used the other to carefully hide his basket full of snack foods behind his back.

"You know I can see those, right?" Dipper stared flatly at the innocent blink that was directed at him. "We're paying for these, and we're leaving. C'mon." His tone brokered no argument, and he turned on a heel with a bag of Korean barbeque chips in his hand. He heard the dragging squeal of oxfords on polished linoleum moments later. He smiled awkwardly at the cashier, unsure if that was even the sort of expression people made at each other in a customer/employee circumstance anymore. Considering the dead eyed stare he received, he severely doubted it. "Hi, yeah... just these, please." He placed the chips tentatively on the counter, and flinched as a mountain of snacks poured onto the open space beside it. "...And those, I guess." The air freshener was gently placed on top of the snack pile, and Dipper could feel the impression of a grin being branded into the side of his head even as he was stared down by the humorless employee. "...And that."

The soulless teenager behind the counter blinked one eye, and then the other before slowly gathering each individual item to scan their price tags. What followed was forty eight seconds of mind shattering discomfort, as the sound of a beeping register filled the air, accompanied only by the tepid shuffle of magazine pages. "..That'll be twenty eight thirty seven, sir," the employee drawled, sounding as dead inside as Dipper felt on a regular basis. He accepted the two twenties thrust his way with glacial slowness, placing them inside the register and making absolutely no move to make change. "...Have a nice day."

"Yeahyoutoo," Dipper mumbled as he avoided eye contact, gathering up the snacks in a trio of plastic bags before he took Bill's arm and dragged him out of the mart. He sucked in a breath of warm, fresh air and waited for his blood to stop throbbing in his veins.

"Well, that was sure fascinating!" Bill chirped much too loudly. "Watching you interact with other humans is always fun. You look so lost! Like a little lamb. And uncomfortable, now that I think about it. I could eat that little worker drone, if you'd like me to," Bill offered thoughtfully.

"We've talked about the whole 'eating people' thing." Dipper began the slow trudge towards his vehicle. "But... I appreciate the offer. I think. It's the thought that counts." He attempted to fumble through his pockets for his keys while also not dropping the bags of junk food, uttering a distracted 'thanks' as Bill relieved him of the burden. He finally fished out his keys, unlocking the car with a sharp 'BEEP' and the click of door locks. And then he froze as a pair of inhumanly long arms were gently draped around his neck. "..Bill?"

"Just gotta take care of something real quick!" The demon promised, hands clutching something that Dipper didn't dare look at. He closed his eyes as the hands rose, fitting something thin over his head and around his neck. He peeked open his eyes to glance down in puzzlement, only to see the air freshener secured around his neck. "The perfect charm for my Pine Tree!" He glanced in absolute bewilderment at the demon, a flush clawing its way up to settle on his cheeks.

"...Thanks," he managed to choke out, feeling something bubble inside of him; something that he couldn't pretend was negative. He stumbled towards the driver's side door as raw fear and tempered affection warred inside of him. He turned the key in the ignition, pulling out of the gas station and getting back on the road towards the TFG airport. Bill sang along to the bellowing growls and screams on the radio, creating a hideous cacophony that threatened to permanently damage his hearing. For whatever reason, that bubbling feeling only intensified.

Maybe Dipper didn't know himself as well as he'd thought. 


	36. Flight

  
Dipper had a scarce few minutes to recover from his experience of being on the cusp of a monumental revelation. Fortunately he managed to put it out of his head long enough to park his car on the second story of the parking complex. The solid concrete ceilings and dim lighting made it feel like late evening instead of the apex of morning.

"Do you think you could actually help me with the luggage, this time?" Dipper peered around his open trunk as he attempted to get a grasp on his awkwardly shaped travelling bag. Eventually he gave up entirely on trying to lift it, and instead settled with yanking on the handle and sending it clattering to the concrete below. "Bill, stop eating snacks and-" He cut himself off as a pair of hands descended from above, snaking over top of the trunk and winding their way around the handle of a suitcase to slowly extract it.

Bill attempted to wink at Pine Tree when he looked up in bewilderment, only to remember that he was wearing his eye patch. "Jeez, what's the point of having two eyes if I don't even get to use both of them?"

"The _point_ is that we don't want to draw attention to ourselves, and also please get off of my car." Dipper yanked the suitcase out of Bill's hands, stumbling backwards when his noodle arms were suddenly fully encumbered by the not insignificant weight. He supposed Bill's extra fingers came in pretty handy for extra grip strength. He decided to refrain from stating his unintentional pun out loud, in case it set off a fit of cackling that would echo through the parking complex and cause his head to explode.

"You're such a party pooper, and I'll have you know its very comfortable up here." Bill slid off the side of the vehicle and caught himself on his palms. He then proceeded to slowly and carefully twist himself into an upright position in a manner that would cause any professional contortionist to feel nauseous. He ignored the look on Pine Tree's face that spoke of imminent vomiting in favor of jamming his head into the open trunk. "Aw, you left just the bags for me? How thoughtful!" He slipped a strap from either backpack on one arm, shooting straight up and nearly cracking his head on the lip of the trunk's lid.

"Please don't give yourself brain damage." Dipper refrained from mentioning his skepticism that it'd even make a difference in Bill's deranged behavior. He glanced at the two easily tote-able backpacks that Bill was hefting, and then down at the two suitcases that he'd be straining to drag along behind him. "...Yeah, real thoughtful. So, I have a few questions about this whole thing. Most importantly, are we actually taking a commercial flight, or do you have something private lined up?"

"C'mon, what's the fun in you knowing what's going to happen?" Bill skipped ahead a few paces, hearing the tortured squeak of luggage wheels and the drag of shoe soles against concrete. He glanced backwards, only to see an equally tortured look on Pine Tree's face. "Fine, fine, we're taking a commercial flight. If I could arrange private jets, do you really think we'd need this gold?" He resumed his strange loping stride and reached into his designated backpack for something to devour. In lieu of marmoset heads, he settled for spicy Korean barbeque chips. Their crunch was hollow and unsatisfying, but at least they tasted pretty okay.

"I guess that makes sense," Dipper muttered begrudgingly. "But why can't you just have your followers dig up the gold, sell it, and then we can set up an account for them to transfer the money into?"

Bill hummed, having not considered that possibility. His (current) knowledge of human currency handling was limited at best, but at least he had a sufficient answer for why that wouldn't work. "Because I don't trust these freaks not to take it for themselves. It's ancient Aztec gold, Pine Tree. You know, the Aztecs that they descend from and are absolutely, zealously obsessed with? If they thought they could take it and run before I got there, they would. Luckily, they don't know the exact location. They'd have to dig up a pretty big plot of land if they wanted to find it, and they wouldn't dare attempt to steal it with me among them. The wrath of Tonatiuh is a terrible thing indeed." Dipper was glad that Bill wasn't facing towards him, because whatever expression he must be making was surely awful to behold.

"Tonatiuh," Dipper murmured, trying to remember where he'd heard the name while also trying to distract himself from thoughts of Bill's potential for brutality. "That's a sun god, right? What the natives of Mexico called that conquistator... Alva-something."

"Ohh, so you've got some history under your belt, huh? Ol' Alvarado was quite the guy, let me tell you. He was a real go-getter! And very handsome and intelligent as well." Bill preened paradoxically, and Dipper frowned in thought. Why would the demon ever compliment someone that wasn't himse- "Figured it out, did you?" Bill crooned, eye bright with glee as he beheld the quiet horror on Pine Tree's face. "That's right; he was one of my flesh puppets! When he was pillaging Aztec temples, he found instructions for how to summon me. Naturally, as a primitive idiot, he did it! And boy, let me tell you; I'll never forget the look on his face when I tricked him out of his body."

"But- I thought you were helping the Aztecs? Why would you take over the body of a conquistador, and help conquer them?" Even as he asked the question, Dipper had a feeling he knew what the answer would be.

"I thought it'd be funny!" Bill replied brightly, as they passed the threshold between parking lot and airport. "Besides, you can only watch so many ritual sacrifices before it becomes a snorefest. It's much more fun to wage war! And you humans were so good at it back then, too; cannons and mounts and muskets all over the place! You still use muskets, right?"

"Not... entirely," Dipper replied, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of Bill having participated in the eradication of an entire empire. Not that it was too surprising, really. From what he remembered of high school history class, Alvarado was known for being charming and charismatic, and also for acts of horrendous cruelty. "And these Aztec descendants still think you're one of their gods? That's..."

"Hilarious, right?" Bill cackled much louder than was appropriate in a public place. He tossed his empty bag of chips on the ground, oblivious to Dipper scrambling to pick it up and properly dispose of it while also lugging around two suitcases. "Listen Pine Tree, when you're in a position like mine, you gotta learn to play both fields. Also wreaking havoc is ridiculously entertaining and there's no reason to ever pass up on the chance to do so."

"Right." Dipper berated himself internally, unable to believe that he'd almost tricked himself into believing that Bill was halfway decent, _again_. As quirky and carefree as Bill pretended to be, he was still a cruel, callous, otherworldly abomination that found joy in taking and destroying human lives. His limbs filled with liquid cement, and his arms drooped as he ground to a halt. "Bill, can we trade? I.. I can't carry these right now."

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure," Bill responded absently, having been lost in his revery of conquest and glory. He shrugged off his backpacks and tossed them at Pine Tree's feet, snagging the handles of the suitcases in return. He narrowed his eye at the drawn, haggard look on his human's face. "Is something wrong? I'm still willing to head back and eat that little snot."

"It's nothing," Dipper droned, eyes locked on the reflective tile underfoot. He hefted both backpacks, and even their meager contents felt like lead weights nailed to his back. "Just... I'd appreciate if we didn't talk about eating people. Or conquering people. Or tricking people." He began trudging off without letting Bill get a word in to respond, eyes bleary and dull as he went through the motions of registering their luggage. At least Bill was sufficiently helpful in the process.

Bill relinquished his role as 'luggage cart' as soon as the bags were in the possession of the airport, trailing in confusion after his wilting Pine Tree. Was the kid really that upset about Bill's conquistador days? That was hundreds of years ago! Humans weren't supposed to care about things that far back. He hummed in thought, before realization struck. Pine Tree was upset about the posession talk! That too was in the past, but he supposed that it being a personal event had the human much more hung up on it. He considered explaining to Pine Tree that a few years and a few hundred years were virtually the same thing in the grand scheme of eternity, but quickly discarded the idea. Bill eventually came to the conclusion that the best he could do was avoid talking about it, because an apology would be insincere (he was pretty sure) and wouldn't help anything.

"Bill? We have to go through security. You need to take off your shoes, as well as anything metallic you might have on you." The demon blinked out of his stupor, finding that he'd contemplated and considered almost all the way to the front of the line for what was apparently security screening.

"My shoes? What possible danger could shoes pose to airport security? Besides being used as mildly effective bludgeons and/or projectile weapons, of course." Bill noticed an impatient glare from out of the corner of his eye, coming from a disgruntled looking security officer. He had the sudden impulse to take as long as possible before something happened, but the thought of getting Pine Tree detained through no fault of his own was...

"It's because sometimes people hide things in their shoes, and try to take them on planes." Dipper very carefully avoided mentioning exactly what sort of things were smuggled onto aircraft. He saw Bill's gaping hellmouth open to spout out something that would surely get them detained at best and arrested at worst, and quickly spoke up again. "So just take off your shoes, and put them in this tray." He shook the plastic tray containing his own shoes emphatically, watching as Bill reluctantly parted with his oxfords. He breathed a sigh of relief, stemming from the lack of argument and detainment. They made it through the metal detector with little trouble, although he did have to forcibly pull Bill away from it once the demon realized it made a beeping noise every time he passed the threshold.

"Well, that was boring," Bill complained as he slipped his shoes back on, wiggling a multitude of toes to get comfortable again. "Please tell me we don't have to do stuff like that again."

Dipper almost managed to muster a smile, but it was lost somewhere in the gaping abyss that resided within his torso. "We'll have to go through customs in Venezuela, to check our baggage again in case we're carrying contraband."

"You humans and your security measures," Bill scoffed, gravitating over towards a nearby food court. "It'd be much more fun if you had combat arenas instead of metal detectors. Whoever survives is allowed to board their flight. Oh, and these buildings are boring too. It needs more... ivory, and organic structures; maybe some eighty three sided polygons or somethin'."

"...I think I'll refrain from commenting on that one," Dipper muttered, trying to get the image of a living, breathing airport composed of organic polygons out of his head. "Alright, since you clearly are interested in eating somewhere, you need to pick a restaurant. Just one."

"Just one? Pine Tree, I don't think you understand my dietary needs. Or yours, for that matter. We're going to have to eat at least twice." Bill began ambling towards what appeared to be a breakfast cafe, and it reminded Dipper that he hadn't eaten a real breakfast in a very long time. And that he hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, as well. Maybe Bill was actually right about him not having a well thought out diet.

"Wait, what do you mean? Our flight leaves pretty soon, right?" Dipper hurried after the demon, only just realizing that he wasn't actually one hundred percent certain of when their flight was actually going to be boarding.

"Soon? Pine Tree, our flight isn't for six hours." Bill grinned in puzzlement at his human, almost completely certain that he'd informed Pine Tree of this fact.

"...WHAT-" Dipper bit his own tongue to stifle his exclamation, which had come out much louder than he'd intended. The faint taste of copper and a blossom of sharp pain exploded in his mouth, but at least he hadn't made himself look completely stupid. Actually, the way Bill was looking at him made him feel significantly less intelligent.

"You're really good at that whole 'overreacting' thing, aren't you?" Bill wrapped a spindly arm around Pine Tree's neck, tugging him close. "Lucky for you, your good pal Bill is here to stop you from hyperventilating into unconsciousness! Breathe, Pine Tree, breathe!" Dipper had only a short moment to suck in a breath before he was being shaken back and forth just hard enough to disorient him.

"I can't breathe if you shake my head off!" He slipped out of the sixteen fingered prison, clutching his head to make sure his brain hadn't been rattled out of his head. "You're really bad at this whole 'reassuring' thing, aren't you?" Every iota of fire that had kindled within Dipper was quenched by the silent stare that Bill was pointing in his direction. "I-I.."

"You're right about that, Pine Tree!" Bill laughed, thoroughly mussing Dipper's hair with his hand. He backed away and attempted to flatten in with his fingers, and that only fueled Bill's laughter. "I'm glad you've still got a bit of spunk. Makes you a lot more fun!" Dipper tried to formulate some sort of expression that didn't look.. well, he'd rather not apply a word to it. But before he even had a chance to do that, Bill was approaching with hands raised, grabbing Dipper's own hand and gently pulling it away from his head. "Don't worry, I've got this." Bizarrely enough, Bill began carding twisted fingers through his tangled locks, straightening them and flattening them out from their disheveled state. Dipper ripped his focus away from the warm, gentle fingers against his scalp to the heart that was slamming against his ribcage. He certainly didn't think about how pleasant and soothing the sensation of having his hair fixed was.

"Bill, quit it, we're in public," he eventually managed to utter, batting away bony hands and putting some distance between them. "Let's just eat already, okay?" The reminder of food seemed to flip a switch in the whirling vortex of madness that Bill called a brain, and Dipper found himself being dragged almost off his feet entirely as Bill brought them to the cafe. He had to send Bill the sternest look he could muster when they made it up to the counter, so as to try and prevent a repeat of the mall incident. Luckily, he seemed more interested in acquiring food than disturbing and traumatizing the worker behind the counter, and they managed to get their breakfast without causing a scene.

"Boy you humans sure are inventive with the things you shove down your gullets. I mean, just look at this neat little food tube!" Bill complimented, waving around his breakfast wrap. Dipper narrowly avoided a glob of scrambled egg, and covered his pancakes with his hands.

"You're not going to have any left to eat if you keep waving it around like that." Dipper watched on warily for any more signs of breakfast mutilation, but when all he received was loud chewing, he slowly returned to consuming his own food. The mechanical motions of eating gave Dipper the perfect opportunity to address some of the thoughts glued to the inside of his head. Thoughts that specifically concerned the alien horror sitting across from him.

He'd already come to terms with his attraction to this deformed monster.The best way he could rationalize it was to draw forth from his experiences with the supernatural. He'd always been drawn to oddities, and anything unusual. That had only grown with him, tempering into a fascination with the grotesque. It was no wonder he'd never found another human particularly appealing. Wendy didn't count; twelve year old hormones and a limited understanding of anything and everything to do with romance and desire were not the ingredients for actual attraction. Either way, she'd been mired in weirdness the same as he was, and what he admired so strongly about her was that not only could she handle it, she thrived in it. She was cool and calm under pressure, and he'd almost been envious of that trait. Being sweaty and paranoid had been extremely unpleasant, and even with less sweat and more psychological damage he still wished he had her collected mindset.

Dipper paused in the middle of eating as he realized he'd just blended his thoughts about his strange, twisted relationship with Bill with thoughts of what he'd shared with Wendy years ago. He could acknowledge an attraction. But anything deeper than that terrified him. There was a reason he had always glossed over Bill's talk of heart thudding and magnified feelings and warm chest sensations; he'd thought at first that it was merely signs of the demon learning about 'friendship', but when he realized those same experiences had manifested within himself...

Bill was charming; there was no getting around it. He was a smooth talker, a silver tounged liar that could twist your mind into believing that his ideas were your own. But even when he wasn't putting on a facade, when he wasn't playing a part or acting out a character, he was somehow... Dipper found himself almost endeared by his strange mannerisms, his quirks and personality and his brief flashes of tender, genuine behavior. But he knew that there was a looming shadow that darkened everything with inky malice. Bill was cruel. He was cunning, and manipulative, and ruthless. He cared only about himself and did whatever he wanted without bothering to acknowledge the consequences. He was the master of deceit, and had likely ended countless human lives, whether it be through direct action or as an indirect cause.

But Bill had said himself that he didn't want that, anymore. That he felt guilt and possibly even remorse for his heinous actions. Dipper could vividly picture a single golden eye, pupil wide and searching as the face it was set in twisted with anguish. Bill had been so lost and confused, unable to understand himself and his blossoming emotions. But Dipper had to remember what he'd been before. What he was inevitably going to be again. Without proper human emotion, Bill Cipher was a demon in every sense of the word. But _with_ them...

Dipper spent much of the next six hours locked inside his ailing mind, trying to fit together pieces into a puzzle long completed. He made a marked effort to rationalize and categorize his own emotions, specifically his affection for the demon that ruined his life. Six hours and twenty three minutes later, he was torn from his thoughts by their boarding onto a plane headed to one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

Forty eight seconds later, the front door of Dipper's house was kicked off its hinges.


	37. Discovery

Solid, ponderous footsteps clacked against a hardwood floor, sending weak echoes through an empty house. Heavier, more impatient footsteps follow shortly behind, and the first pair turned to the second.

A pair of spectacles were removed by calloused fingers, and the bridge of a sizeable nose was massaged. Stanford Pines stared down his twin. "Stanley, was it really necessary to break the door down? I'm already well aware of your.. morally ambiguous talents; surely we could have just picked the lock?"

Stan snorted, idly rubbing at the shoulder he'd just used to aid in the... obstruction removal process. "We'll fix it later.  _After_ we get our niece and nephew back." Shrewd eyes narrowed as they scanned the open floorspace, locking onto the staircase in particular.

"We can't overlook the possibility that he's still present-" Ford paused as a disbelieving snort interrupted him.

"Right, of course. Maybe the kid's just been snoozing for the three months we've been trying to contact him. Maybe he just _forgot_ to come to Gravity Falls, like he's been doin' for the last ten years. Gee, how could I have never considered the possibilities?" Stan's tone was laden with mocking hostility, but underneath it was a solid layer of apprehension. Ford was perfectly aware that all this bluster was just a sign of his concerns and fears.

"Calm down, Stanely. We can't make any judgements until we've thoroughly inspected for evidence of his disappearance." Ford had very little doubt that his niece and nephew had been taken; he simply needed to confirm his theory as to whom the culprit was before any action could be taken.

Stan scratched the back of his neck, visibly reigning in his anger. "Yeah, well.. you're the mystery hunter here, Sixer. What are we lookin' for?"

"Signs of a struggle, first and foremost." Stanford entered the kitchen, pulling open silverware drawers to see if any knives were missing. He didn't exactly have intimate knowledge of Dipper's silverware possession, but in a moment of panic he might have jostled something out of place. However, everything seemed perfectly neat and organized. There was no sign of blood on the tile, and no telling scent of strong cleaning agents used to clean it, had it been present at all. He glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye, and found him inspecting a garish yellow sweater that had been draped over the back of the couch. "Did you find something?"

"Heck if I know," Stan muttered, turning over the sweater to check the tag. "All I know is that I've never seen that kid wear anything yellow before. And this is definitely too big to fit him." He threw it back onto the couch, and began approaching the guest room.

"Hmm." Ford said nothing more, filing the information away for later use. For the moment he opened the refrigerator, frowning thoughtfully at the contents. Everything inside looked fresh; nothing was rotting, or past its expiration date. "His fridge looks recently stocked. He must have been here in the last few days, at the very least. But then, why the lack of contact?"

"Uh, I think I might have an answer for you." Stan gestured at where a phone dock had once been located, atop a bare table. "Kid must'a gotten rid of all his phones. Or someone else did, at least."

"I suppose that _would_ explain things," Ford murmured, closing the fridge and joining his brother on the other end of the house. They shared a glance before entering the guest bedroom. The blinds were wide open, letting afternoon sunlight spill over the unmade bed. A bedside lamp was turned on, and the dresser drawers were all pulled open. "Recently occupied," Ford muttered more to himself than anything. "But by whom? And for what purpose?"

"What I don't understand is why everything is so intact in here. Mabel's place was a wreck." Stan breathed a deep sigh, turning to exit the room. "I dunno, maybe we'll find more clues upstairs," he suggested, trying to ignore the feeling of unease that was developing in his gut. He simply attributed it to indigestion.

"Likely so," Ford agreed, heading upstairs with his twin in tow. He paused at the sight of light spilling out of the half cracked bathroom door, and wasted no time in heading inside. He immediately noticed the razor on the counter, in addition to signs of drying condensation on the inside of the shower door. " _Very_ recently occupied."

"This really doesn't make any sense," Stan grumbled. "Mabel's place was a complete wreck that hadn't been touched in months. Are you tellin' me Dipper's been here since-what, last night?"

"We can't rule out the possibility," Ford repeated, turning to exit the room. No signs of blood, no signs of a struggle. The only real place left to check was the bedroom. He pushed the door inward, and was met with mild disarray. A few loose articles of clothing were strewn about the floor, and the bedcovers were present among them. The writing desk was covered in sheets of paper, and those too were covered in a thin layer of dust. Little activity on that end. He almost brushed over the desk, before something caught his eye. "..Interesting." He approached a mason jar, which appeared to contain two fairly sized round objects.

"What'd you find, Sixer?" Stan ceased inspecting the inside of the closet, which was home only to a pair of dress shoes and a few pieces of formal wear.

"I'm not entirely sure; it appears to be something he's preserved." Ford leaned in to take a closer look, and saw dead, filmy pupils staring back at him. "Hm. What reason would he have to preserve eyeballs, of all things?"

"Eyeballs? Jeez, what the heck has this kid been gettin' up to?" Stan approached and grabbed the jar off the desk, squinting at its contents. "Seems a little big for eyeballs, don't you think?"

"Larger than human ones, certainly. Being as I can see no reason for Dipper preserving the eyes of an animal, they must belong to something supernatural." Ford slipped off the straps of his backpack, gently placing it on the floor and reaching into the inner lining of his coat to retrieve a leatherbound journal. It was unmarked and unremarkable, which is exactly how Ford intended it to look. Why make it apparent that it was something of value, after all? He flipped through pages, searching specifically for creatures with larger than normal eyes. "No, not that... certainly not that, but perhaps..."

"Hey, poindexter. Mind sharing with the rest of the class?" Stan set the jar back down, trying to figure out when Dipper had ever shown an interest in taxidermy and organic preservation. Sure, the kid wasn't exactly squeamish when it came to taxidermied animals, considering the Mystery Shack was full of them, but he'd never seemed to particularly care about them before. Other than the fact that they were completely fake, of course.

"Yes, yes, just a moment. I'm tentative to place a label on this, but there _is_ one creature I know of that possesses abnormally sized eyes, and could feasibly be located outside of Gravity Falls." He turned the journal around, revealing an illustration of a sickly, sludgy looking thing with massive, luminous eyes. "Somnum Venator: The Sleep Hunter."

"Yeesh, that thing sure ain't pretty." Stan adjusted his glasses, looking away from the illustration to gauge Ford's expression. It was fairly unreadable, though his jaw was set in a determined manner. "You think the eyes belong to this thing?"

"I can't be completely certain, but it seems likely. The Sleep Hunter is a beast that preys on insomniacs. It has a lethal gaze, and it essentially traps the mind in a waking dream, slowly sifting memories from reality into the dreamscape. Once the victim is completely removed from reality, it eats their memories, and them as well. Or it did, I suppose."

"Sounds like a real piece of work. But it can't be our culprit, cuz' the kid's got its eyes. We can investigate your nerd stuff after we've found them." Stan turned away from his brother's quietly fascinated expression, leaving him to leaf through his journal and mutter to himself. He dug through desk drawers, finding countless broken writing utensils, as well as a pile of lollipops. He dismissed them, but paused at the sight of something black and rectangular. He fished it out, and turned it over in his hands. "Hey, I think I found one of those flash drive things."

"Hm?" Ford glanced up from his journal, closing it for the moment. "Ah, a portable hard drive. Likely used to backup the information on his computer. He _did_ mention that he had been digitally formatting the original Journals.. Perhaps we should look into it, once we're done searching."

"Here, you take it. You've always been better at all that computer junk." Stan shoved it into his brother's grasp, and turned to inspect the last object in the room; Dipper's bed. There wasn't any blood on it, and the sheets were intact. He almost turned away from it when something caught his eye. "Sixer, I found something you might want to see."

"Yes? What is it?" Ford turned away from the desk, only to see his brother with a sleek black laptop in one hand and a smartphone in the other. Well, there went the tentative hope that Dipper had simply left of his own power. "Well, I suppose we should see what's on them. Start with the phone, see if he's made any recent calls."

"Yeah, yeah, just gotta figure this thing out." Stan set down the laptop, fiddling with the smart phone for a moment before he apparently thumbed whatever turned it on. A screen lit up, and greeted him with numbers one through zero. "'Course he's got a password," Stan mumbled, randomly swiping numbers for a few moments before he had an idea. He input six one five six, and was immediately given access to a series of colorful applications. "Good thing that kid's such a sap," he muttered fondly, thumbs slow and uncertain as he attempted to navigate to call history. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ford cracking open the laptop and being lit up by the screen. He turned back to the phone in his hands, and frowned when he found what he was searching for. "Last call was from an unknown caller, three months ago. The last message received was... three months ago, from Mabel."

"Very strange indeed," Ford mumbled absently, tapping keys to enter CMD commands. He managed to open a list of documents, most of which either involved Dipper's writings or catalogued Journal entries. He stopped dead on one that made his heart skip a beat. 'BILL CIPHER'. "Of course. Nothing is ever outside his grasp," Ford muttered bitterly, opening the word document. He read through it carefully, finding writings that he would have attributed to someone in a mental health facility. Words were smashed together, letters and sometimes entire phrases were missing, and it was lacking any and all forms of punctuation. But what it did contain was a firsthand account of ruthless brutality and psychological torture. He clenched his jaw, trying to bite back clawing anguish and raw, blazing fury.

"Sixer,you alright? What'd you find? Stanford?" Stan leaned in to gaze at whatever had caused that strained expression on his brother's face, and saw only frantic notations. "What is it, what's wrong?"

Ford tossed the laptop aside, leaning his head into his hands and taking a shuddering breath. With a monumental force of will and effort, he shoved everything away, deep inside himself. He turned to meet Stan's eyes, expression grim and lined with decades of exhaustion.

"Mabel, our niece... she's dead. Murdered by Bill Cipher." 


	38. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content in this chapter.

  
Approximately two thousand, one hundred and seventy three miles away from and six hours after this dark revelation, a grotesque celebration was taking place. On the outskirts of the sprawling city of Caracas, an abandoned warehouse complex was home to a dark, ancient ritual. Surrounded on all sides by metal fencing, it was the perfect compound for the Heart of Montezuma to take up residence. It was private, presumed to be empty, and far enough away from major roads and other buildings that the screams of sacrifices couldn't be heard.

Although Dipper didn't seem to have any problem with hearing them, despite his best efforts to deafen himself to the horrid sounds. The moment they'd left the airport, a van had pulled up to meet them, and Bill had slipped into the persona of a vast, all knowing godhead. The driver of the vehicle and the armed cultists in the back had been infinitely respectful of the demon, who treated them with charming, if condescending, geniality. They'd driven down empty streets and poorly paved back roads, before taking a dirt trail out of the city proper. They'd exited the vehicle, and had been lead to what Dipper assumed used to be worker's quarters. A wall had been knocked down between two such rooms to expand it, and it had been dressed up in as much opulence as the cultists had access to. Rich decor, finely made furniture, and even several stolen artifacts resided within the impromptu chambers.

And that was where Dipper found himself, huddled on an impossibly soft bed amongst silken sheets as the gurgling screams of ritual sacrifices rang out, alongside the high pitched bellowing of Bill Cipher. Or Tonatiuh, as his followers knew him. The god of the blazing sun, master of illumination and guiding daylight, as well as the wrathful heat and fury of scorching wildfires. The last Dipper had seen of the false idol was of him being dressed in an outfit that must have taken hours upon hours of feverish work and careful research to replicate, as well as a feathered headdress that was extremely accurate to accounts of the headpieces of Aztec royals. He was left alone in the locked room with an armed guard outside both doors, left to stew in the knowledge that Bill was overseeing the systematic, ritualistic slaughter of innocent people. Perhaps he was even partaking in it-who was he kidding, of _course_ Bill was participating. There was no way the demon could resist the sensation of brutal, meaningless slaughter. Just like he'd done to the Aztecs whose descendants still revered him. Just like he'd done to Mabel, for petty revenge. Just like he would inevitably do to Dipper, when the time finally came. Bill's interest in him wouldn't last forever. One day he'd be torn to pieces, and the last thing he'd ever see would be the face of the greatest evil in the universe.

Bill returned to the room some few hours later, relieved of his ceremonial garb, yet still painted in the blood of his followers' tributes. He felt lively and invigorated, in a way he'd never experienced before. Even as he gunned down Aztecs and scalped invading Europeans, he'd never felt this sort of euphoria. Maybe it came not with having a vessel, but BEING the meat that he inhabited. This was the closest he would come to a true physical form for a very long time, and the melding of his metaphysical consciousness with electric powered, chemical soaked meat led to a senseless, visceral intoxication. He reluctantly washed away the sticky lifeblood that clung to his face and hands, before stalking towards his favorite human with long, crooked strides. His Pine Tree appeared to be dead asleep, face twisted with discomfort and stress. Well, that just wouldn't do at all. He stripped off his clothes and climbed between silken sheets, possessively wrapping his arms around a poorly nourished torso. It was time for a little venture.

Dipper's deep, torturous sleep was interrupted before it could truly begin, ghoulish nightmares twisting and washing away into the familiar bleakness of the Mindscape. His room was once more in possession of three crumbling walls, mementos of loved ones scattered about chipped and weathered furniture. Atop his nightstand rested Bill's representation; a slim top hat, bearing a medical eye patch. Emblazoned on the pad of gauze was the Eye of Providence. He sat up in bed, searching for any sign of the demon that had unquestionably summoned him here. "Bill. Why are we here?"

"What an interesting question! Because I wanted us here, obviously!" Bill emerged from the floor in a shimmer of light motes, which combined together to form his nightmarish visage. He grinned, wide and exhilarated at his human. "You seemed pretty restless, so I thought; 'hey, why not cheer up my Pine Tree?' and here we are! So what's got you down, pal? Someone need eating? Did one of my little cultists treat you poorly?" Unfathomable rage flashed over his face for all of an iota of a moment, before he was all smiles once more. "C'mon, you can tell your old buddy Bill all about it!"

"Is that even a real question?" Dipper sat hunched against the headboard, not quite meeting Bill's eyes. He saw that grin slowly falter, and felt a vicious pulse of satisfaction. "Maybe, I don't know, random thought... maybe it was the people you and your crazed followers mercilessly executed? Did you even once think that it might upset me to hear that? Of course not."

"That's just standard cult stuff, Pine Tree. There's no way around it!" Bill's grin fell away completely, and he took a handful of steps forward. "You know what the Aztecs were like; bloodthirsty warmongers to a tee. If the Spaniards hadn't wiped out the Mayans and Incas first, the Aztecs would have inevitably done the job for them. And their descendants are all the same; a bunch of greedy, bloodthirsty morons that will do anything for wealth, for power, for their false gods. You think those people sacrificed to me were innocent? They were human traffickers, Pine Tree. They operated in the business of trading young flesh to wealthy socialites with no morality or concern for the lives of others. Your world is a stinking cesspool of hate and idiocy, Pine Tree. No atrocity I have ever committed could hold a candle to the sins of humanity. In the last hundred years alone, you've... you.." Bill tapered off into silence as he saw the raw, bloody hurt on Pine Tree's face.

"You're the same as you've always been," Dipper whispered, betrayal scrawled over the gaping wound of his expression. "All your talk of guilt and wanting to change; you're a filthy liar. I'm so stupid, falling for it over and over again. I don't want your excuses, or your lies anymore. I don't want your gold, either. I just want to go home and never see you again." His heart was skewered and hemorrhaging his idiotic feelings. He just wanted to close his eyes and die quietly, because there was clearly nothing left for him in this world.

Bill looked as if he'd been struck across the face with a ball peen hammer. His eyes were wide with shock, golden ring and triangular pupil locked on the face of Dipper Pines. "Y...you don't mean that. I'm not-I'm not lying to you, Pine Tree! I really do feel guilt for what I did to you. I really have changed. I promise, I'm telling the truth. I.." Bill attempted to wrangle back control of the chaotic mess that was the inside of his head, thoughts and feelings blazing like stars and shrieking like firecrackers as they erupted within him. He felt (PAINGUILTSORROWSHAME) as though he'd done something terrible once more. He had to say.. he needed to... "You're the only one I care about, Pine Tree." His voice cracked like a human skull under his heel. "I've only ever cared about you. I don't want you to be upset. I don't want you to be hurting. ..I don't want you to hate me again."

"..I don't hate you," Dipper just barely stated, eyes wet with saline despite his best efforts. "I'm just so tired, Bill. I'm tired of you jerking me around like this. I'm tired of not having my sister anymore. I'm tired of everything. ...I just want to sleep forever."

Bill felt lost amidst the cosmos that he claimed to have dominion over, insignificant and drifting forever in a direction he had no control over. He didn't know what to do, and it terrified him beyond anything else. He was scared of not having nigh infinite knowledge. He was scared of not being in complete control. He was scared of losing Pine Tree forever. "Please, I know I can make everything better, we just-after this, Pine Tree, we'll do everything you've ever dreamed of. We can travel the world, we could research supernatural mysteries all over the globe, we can do ANYTHING."

"I just want Mabel back," Dipper choked out, shaking as though he might come apart at the seams. "And I know you can't do that, so there's nothing left anymore." He stared at Bill through watery eyes, waiting for a contradiction, a false promise, an offered deal-

But none ever came. Bill sagged with the weight of eons and both eyes dropped to the floor, picking out individual fibers in the wood. "..You're right. I can't bring her back. I-.. I'm not all powerful. I can't cheat death. I can't undo things that have been done. Maybe there's something, but I don't.." He trailed off, breath hitching and shuddering. "I don't know. I can't know unless this body dies, but if that happens... I won't feel like I do now. I won't care about trying to make things better. I'd.. manipulate you. Try to trick you into thinking I still cared about you. But all these emotions, all these sensations-they'd be lost to me."

"..And here I thought you didn't know what honesty was," Dipper croaked, a mostly hysterical laugh crawling out of his throat. "There's nothing we can do, then. ...Stan and Ford are going to find out, you know," he stated suddenly. "They'll do everything in their power to kill you. Maybe I could convince them you were safer in this body- I don't know. I guess when it comes right down to it, neither of us knows anything, huh?" He grinned, a pale facsimile of Bill's own signature expression.

"..I guess not," Bill whispered, eyes trailing up from the floor to tentatively inspect Pine Tree. He looked... terrible was an understatement. He looked utterly ravaged, and more than a little unstable. But he didn't look angry, and Bill decided to take what he could get. "We'll worry about Sixer and Fez when it's relevant. But right now... I promise, there won't be anymore sacrifices while we're here. We can rest for a few days, maybe look around Caracas for a while. Then we'll dig up the gold, and I'll instruct my followers to smuggle it back to the United States. We'll get your money, Pine Tree. It might be a little while, but the wait will be worth it. At least..." He grinned, wide and toothy. "At least I'll be the only nuisance for you to worry about, right?"

"You act like that's not the worst fate in the world," Dipper droned, but felt something tiny and sincere pulling at his lips. He slowly sat up in bed, sheets pooling around his legs. He thought back to the last time he'd been in the Mindscape, and the... events that had taken place. They were surreal and more than a little disgusting, but they had left him feeling almost satisfied. He'd never really been much for... self exploration, but after Bright Eyes it had become entirely nonexistent. Relief was a valuable thing. "Do you.. can you make me feel better, Bill? At least for a little while?" He felt a familiar heat burning in his face, his thoughts swaying drunkenly as they attempted to keep up with his rapidly shifting emotions. He was sure it wasn't healthy to go from one extreme to another in such a short amount of time... but nothing he ever did was healthy, was it?

"Better?" One quizzical eye stared straight ahead at him, as another began drifting off to the right. His window had been covered in a thick curtain. Bill shook the thought, quick enough on the uptake to figure out what Pine Tree was trying to say. He loomed upwards and forwards, twisted legs carrying him towards a shaking sack of meat. Meat to be torn. Meat to be molded. Meat to be caressed. "What do you want from me, Pine Tree? What do you want me to do?" Bill felt a flare in his chest, sputtering and weak. There was a softer warmth that surrounded the guttural heat, smothering it slowly but surely. He took note of the outright hesitance on Pine Tree's face, the sorrow and anguish blending together with base desire.

Dipper whimpered pathetically at the look on Bill's face. There was no smirk slashed across his mouth, or a grin that threatened to devour him. It was something softer, inhuman lines smoothing out to give him the imperfect facade of a real, human face. "I'm so empty inside, Bill. I need you to fill me, please." Even as he begged for something, anything to take the hurt away, even if just for a moment, he felt like a maiden in a cliche romance novel. He almost found the effort to be embarrassed, but decided it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but himself and Bill, right now. He watched the demon stalk like a clockwork reaper, steps careful and methodical, containing none of the malicious intent that Dipper had half expected to see.

"I can't make you whole again, Pine Tree. But I can help you pretend." Bill began shedding his waistcoat, fibers decaying and floating away as shimmering gold threads. The rest of his clothes quickly followed suit, leaving the bare, alien flesh of Bill Cipher exposed. He crawled up onto the bed, limbs twisting and contorting in a manner that he knew would have Pine Tree trembling.

Dipper's mouth was dry as he watched inhuman bone structures click and twist under living corpse flesh. Bill's ribs (more than there should be) were pronounced and protruding; just as malformed and fascinating as the rest of him. Inevitably, Dipper's eyes were drawn to the organ hanging between flared thighs. It was the same sickly color as the rest of Bill, but it was at least shaped correctly. He remembered exactly what he'd done with it, lost in his delusion, and felt a bonfire spark to life under his skin. But beyond that, apprehension buzzed in his nerves.

He knew the logistics of what they were going to do; how could he not? Dipper hadn't always been.. completely sure of where he was on the spectrum of sexuality, but he'd done enough research on his own to know that the thought of penetrating and being penetrated both excited him. It was just the idea of actually doing it that had him questioning and worrying and second guessing. At least in the Mindscape he didn't have to worry about being injured. He vaguely wondered if he could manipulate his nerve centers to experience any possible level of any possible sensation he could think of, but decided to leave such thoughts for another time. Bill was beginning to look impatient. "I want you to convince me. For as long as you can." He sat up against the headboard, both making room for the demon and instinctively putting distance between himself and a dangerous predator. He began awkwardly fumbling out of his clothes, before an obvious realization occurred and he simply dissolved them into nothing. Feeling exposed despite the sheets covering his modesty, Dipper turned his gaze away from a face with quiet appreciation written across it.

"I'm the master of the mind, Pine Tree.. If you want me to convince you of something, you'll believe it for the rest of your life." Bill could feel blood pulsing through him at the sight of Pine Tree's naked skin. It was marred by small nicks and burn scars, parts of it covered in dustings of hair. His own body was completely smooth aside from the hair atop his head, and he wondered at the difference. He pulled away the sheets concealing his desired payment, recalling quite vividly what he'd done with it during their last encounter. It was flush and lively, in a way that the rest of Pine Tree never managed to emulate. He grasped the organ in a hand, paying extremely close attention to the quiet exhalation he received. He quietly marvelled at the way a simple change of blood flow could make something so soft and limp into something so much more rigid. As primitive and disgusting as human anatomy was, it was unduly fascinating. He met Pine Tree's eyes with one of his own, flashing a smile that exposed the needles growing out of his gums; teeth that could perforate flesh with ease. He began replicating the motion he'd seen done to such appendages before, watching as a lifeless bottom lip was taken between saliva glossed teeth. "This isn't my area of expertise, Pine Tree," he murmured, feeling strangely compelled to not ruin the quiet atmosphere. That could wait until afterwards, he decided. "I need some instruction."

Whatever reserves of blood that resided within Dipper's vessels migrated to his face. "You, uhm... know where to.. penetrate, right?" Giving a lesson on the mechanics of homosexual (was Bill even really male? The body was, but..) intercourse to his partner was probably the least arousing thing he could ever think of doing, but the warm, spindly fingers wrapped around him managed to keep him interested. Speaking of penetration... he flushed further, red heating the tips of his ears and linking across the bridge of his nose as he concentrated on... mentally preparing himself. He uttered a gasp as he felt a sudden loosening of muscles, followed by a gentle stretch and a liberal application of something warm and slick. He almost considered conjuring a towel, before realizing it didn't exactly matter if they ruined his mind sheets.

"Vaguely," Bill replied vaguely, interest clear on his face as he heard a delicate little gasp. He gradually upped the intensity of his ministrations, grasping a little more firmly, moving a little more quickly. Pine Tree wasn't exactly noisy the way he'd been before, but what few noises did escape alongside his incredibly telling facial expressions were enough to convince Bill that he was doing things alright. His own meat suit was apparently pleased as well, if the scorching weight between his legs was anything to go by. He considered giving it some relief, before remembering what Pine Tree had said about penetration. Right, best not to mess this part up. Pine Tree seemed to be slightly more lucid, and the sight of blood spilling out of his orifices probably wouldn't interest him. He used a pair of slightly crooked fingers to feel around underneath Pine Tree's testicles, grazing over a stretch of skin that elicited a sharp intake of breath. Interesting to know. His fingertips eventually sank into something warm and wet, which he knew wasn't self lubricating. "Always thinking ahead," Bill praised, not missing the flash of embarrassment. Always watching. He pressed deeper into the pliant opening, relishing the heat of Pine Tree's unexposed internals. It was a lot softer than he'd imagined, and more sensitive as well if his human's strained little sounds were any indication.

Dipper sighed out little noises with each press against his inner walls, the deformation of Bill's fingers providing an interesting experience that his own fingers could never replicate. Their length was fortunate as well, allowing the digits to probe deeper inside him than he'd ever felt before. It wasn't something he'd done on a particularly regular basis, but the unique sensation was one that had never left his head, and indeed cropped up often on the rare occasions he decided to stimulate himself. He flushed as Bill's fingers began parting in an effort to.. spread him wider-this was the most mortified he had ever been, he was sure. And what he was going to say next would surely cement this memory in the place of his _other_ most embarrassing moment. "Y-you... could you curl your fingers upwards?" He saw realization flash in Bill's eye the very moment before a smirk was carved across his face, and twisted digits curled up to stimulate a very particular set of nerves. Dipper groaned at the sparks that fizzled in his veins, Bill's 'other' ministrations growing a little more lubricated as a result. He could feel those sparks grow in quantity and intensity as the stimulation continued unfettered, until it felt like the byproduct of an arc welder. "W-wait," he blurted, and Bill's hands immediately stilled. "You, I-ah... I think it's time for the next part."

"It's about time," Bill quipped, removing both hands from their stations. "So, how are we going to-" He cut himself off as Pine Tree tipped over onto his hands and knees, staring him down with a quiet intensity. Five fingered hands groped at razor edged shoulders, providing a handhold for Pine Tree to settle in his lap. He could feel himself brushing against the crevice between rounded fat deposits, and released a noise that felt completely unfamiliar on his tongue.

"Let me take care of you," Dipper murmured, feeling almost dizzy as the head of the instrument that'd soon be his to play rested against him. His own length was brushing against flesh just a little cooler than his own, but the blood engorged organ regarded the sensation as if it were ice. He loosened a hand from Bill's shoulder, reaching back to adjust the angle of penetration before slowly, achingly, he sank back against it. He parted easily enough for it, but there was enough of a stretch for him to shudder out a moan. His legs already felt weak beneath him, and he couldn't concentrate hard enough to rectify that. He allowed the gravity that bizarrely existed within the Mindscape to help pull him down, until he was flush against Bill's thighs. He shivered at the intense feeling of fullness, helping to occupy the abyssal crack in his chest. If the noises of desperate frustration and wiggling hips from Bill were any indication, the demon was experiencing sensations just as intense, if not more-so. The thought that he could do that for someone that had clearly had no experience with pleasures of the flesh.. he almost felt accomplished with his ability to teach something to a demon that normally held nigh infinite knowledge in his grasp. "You can move if you want," he said shakily, able to feel Bill's impatience pulsating within him.

Bill wasted no time, clumsily imitating the previous motion of Dipper's hips as he attempted to push deeper, to chase that cloying warmth unto the ends of existence. He whined in displeasured ecstasy as Pine Tree slowly rose into the air, slick flesh sliding over him as he was removed from the human's insides. He had just opened his mouth to complain before the human dropped back down, engulfing him with a pressure that had him keening. As time wore on he began picking up the rhythm that Pine Tree was setting, moving at just the right moments to drag as much sensation out of the motions as he could. He eventually snuck one hand between them, stimulating a neglected organ that had been spilling drops of fluid against him. The other hand splayed over a heaving torso, simply feeling the pounding of Dipper's heart and the expansion and deflation of his lungs. Part of Bill longed to be elbow deep in that chest cavity once more, but a particularly mind numbing twist of Pine Tree's hips pushed the thought from his head. As nice as consensual mutilation was, this was pretty great too.

Dipper's legs burned with sizzling lactic acids as the pace of his movements inevitably increased with his growing, feverish need for release. Noises slipped freely from his mouth with the steady drag against his sensitive internals, and the grasping pump of fingers that entirely engulfed him. As climax approached he desperately tried to formulate words that wouldn't sound like something from a trashy romance novel, and partially succeeded with a cracked utterance of his partner's name. One syllable was stretched for what felt like an eternity as lighting roared in his nerves, liquid leaking between the fingers that grasped him. He clenched unintentionally around the demon, and that was apparently the breaking point. Two syllables slipped past clenched needle teeth as something almost burning hot leaked out into him.

And just like that, all his energy drained away. Dipper slumped against an inhuman chest in exhaustion, breaths slow and shaking as a flagging arousal slipped out of him. Sweat cooled on his heated flesh and strands of hair were caught between his cheek and a solid sternum. He sighed as (thankfully) clean fingers tangled in his already knotted hair, gently freeing strands and locks from their self made prisons.

"..How do you feel, Pine Tree?" Bill's voice was a little louder, even though it was strained with his recent exertion. He slowly turned to fall against the giving mattress below, keeping his treasure secured against his own body. He heard a soft noise, and looked down to meet murky brown with one eye.

Dipper lost himself in a ring of blazing gold, near entirely swallowed by the engorged pupil within it. His limbs were heavy and warm, and his mind was a quiet hum of errant thoughts. The panicked paranoia, the poison of distrust, the bubbling pits of self doubt.. they had all left, for the moment. He wanted to sleep, but not for reasons of escape. He managed the effort of curling his lips upward in a barely present smile.

"I feel like things are getting better."


	39. Contact

When Dipper woke next, he was alone. A cashmere haze encapsulated him, leaving his body limp and his thoughts fogged with sleep. He cracked a yawn that felt like it would snap his jaw, turning over in a bed much too comfortable to be his own. There was no warm body beside him, or one calling his name. He was in Caracas, and Bill was probably out amongst his followers. Whatever warmth had resided within him was extinguished by a bitter chill. Bill had promised no more sacrifices, but how true was that? He could just be doing them somewhere out of earshot, so that Dipper wouldn't notice. Only... what reason would he have to lie, anymore? Bill had acted so painfully sincere during their mind tryst (apparently life was either entirely agonizing or completely ridiculous, and there was no compromise between the two) that Dipper _wanted_ to believe it was real. He knew Bill hadn't completely learned how to school his face, yet. He wasn't a flashing neon sign anymore, but he was still very much an open book. Dipper hadn't seen any sign of deceit, or malice.

He just didn't know anything, anymore. He didn't know how Bill truly felt, if he was being honest or not. He didn't know his own feelings anymore, torn between mistrust and a sick affection that he couldn't shake. He didn't know what to do about Stan and Ford, when they inevitably found out. Either they would kill Bill's physical form, and he'd be free to resume his hellish machinations from the Nightmare Realm, or he'd convince them to leave Bill alone, and they'd hate him forever. He choked on a breath, trying to force back welling tears. He couldn't let Bill die. It was for their safety.

It... was for his own sake, too. It must have been Stockholm Syndrome, or some other psychological phenomenon that made him feel the way he did. Affection and fondness and desire for close intimacy ran rampant through his deteriorated head, leaking from the holes bored into what remained of his mind. The warm, soothing pleasure from last night had faded into a dull echo that consistently eluded his grasp, and now he only felt a hollow ache. There was something horribly wrong with him, that much Dipper could acknowledge. There just wasn't anything to be done about it. What exactly would he do, anyway; see a psychologist? He'd be admitted to a psyche ward. And then Bill would slaughter the staff in a bid to rescue him. The only person who would truly understand was Ford, who possessed a solid determination to annihilate every last iota of Bill Cipher from every dimension in existence. So he'd just live with it, because there was nothing else to do. Well... live for as long as it would last, that was.

Dipper crawled out of bed like a limbed slug, trailing sheets and bedcovers behind him. His clothes were wrinkled and a little bit sweaty, but he didn't feel like changing at the moment. What he needed was a mindless distraction, so he could stop thinking, just for a little bit. He dug through his backpack, frowning when he found only the tangled wires of earbuds and a charger, where he was sure his phone should be. Not particularly interested in digging through every bag for it, he approached the phone dock next to the bed. He sluggishly dialled his own number, frowning when he didn't hear it ringing. Had he left it on vibra-

"Who is this?" Demanded a gruff, barking voice. It was strained with tension, and undercurrents of hostility. It was also a voice Dipper would recognize anywhere. He choked on air, and it was not the sound that was requested. The tension snapped into snarling frustration. "You'd better answer me right. _Now_. Who is this? Why do you have this number?"

"G-Grunkle Stan.." The words escaped in a whimper drenched in terror and painted in relief. He cradled the phone against his face, knowing that it was all over. They knew, they were in his house they HAD TO KNOW-

"Dipper?! Oh my god, Ford, he's alive!" The second half of the exclamation was more faint, and was followed by the frantic shuffle of boots on hardwood. There was a brief, audible shifting of the phone.

"Dipper, listen to me very carefully," Ford's voice rang through the speaker, completely flat and void of all emotion, other than an undertone of urgency. "Wherever Bill has you, whatever he's planning, we're going to stop him. You just need to tell us where you're located-"

"Grunkle Ford.." Dipper's voice was as laden with tears as his face was marked with them. "I... h-how did you-" They had to have arrived within the last day, Dipper realized suddenly. They were so close for so long-getting back into the western hemisphere would have taken them awhile, considering they had been in the middle of the Indian Ocean. They knew Mabel was dead. There was no way they didn't. She hadn't contacted them in months, and they must have looked for her first.

Ford sighed audibly into the receiver, and Dipper could hear the pacing of Stan in the background. "When Mabel's call never came, we were concerned, but not suspicious. We figured that perhaps she'd gotten caught up in something important, or had simply been unavailable to reach us during our designated times of contact. We returned to Gravity Falls, only to find that neither of you were there. We caught a flight to Providence as soon as we could, and found Mabel's home abandoned and in complete disarray. When we arrived at _your_ home.." There was a pause, before Ford's tone darkened. "We found your notes about Bill. About what he'd done to you. What he'd done to Mabel."

There was a brief shuffling sound, and then Stan's voice came through faintly. "What's wrong with you? We gotta find out where he is, you knucklehead!"

"Stanley, I am _trying_ to relay important information-"

"Shut your mouth, Poindexter. We're the ones that need information relayed! Who knows when that triangle freak is gonna be back-"

"..Could you put me on speaker?" Dipper interrupted hesitantly, cutting off whatever rebuttal Ford had mustered. There was a brief tap, before Dipper heard the tone signifying that speaker phone had been activated. "I have a lot to tell you. Both of you. I... I'm okay; physically, at least. Bill hasn't hurt me."

"Hasn't _hurt_ you?! Kid, we read your notes; we know _exactly_ what that monster has been doin' to you-"

"Please don't interrupt," Dipper just about begged, breaths shaky and uneven. He could almost feel Stan reign himself in. "I know, what I wrote. And it's true; all of it. But there's more too it than that. Bill is-"

"Heya Pine Tree, what's cooking in the neighborhood?" Bill burst through one of the doors, a manic grin plastered on his face. He paused as the door swung shut behind him, and his expression turned thoughtful. "That's a human phrase, right?" He was apparently oblivious to Dipper's frantic shushing motions. "Anyway, I was thinking that after this, we should go to Mexico! You know, they have axolotls there, and that's probably the best word you humans have ever come up with!" He finally ceased his babbling at the desperate look Pine Tree was flashing his way. "Ohhh, you're on the phone. Who're you talkin' to? Got a lady friend I don't know about? HA! Doubtful!"

"Dipper, just stay on the line as long as you can, I'll do what I can to track the number from here," Ford hissed into his ear, clearly having heard the demon's boisterous yelling.

Dipper resisted the urge to sob pathetically, clutching the plastic casing of the phone like a lifeline. "It-.. it's better that he's here. Just... don't hang up. Please."

"What are you, nuts?" Stan cut in, voice thick with disbelief. "Just do what Ford says, kid. We'll get you out of there, I swear it."

"C'mooon, what's the big secret, who are you talking to?" Bill's voice cut through the air like a scythe through wheat chaff. He loped over, snatching the phone away from Dipper's hands even as he attempted to wrestle it back away. "Yello, master of the mind all seeing eye, at your service!" He cackled at the sharp intake of breath on the other end, and the way Pine Tree stilled in shock. "What, you think I didn't know it was you, Fordsie? Who else would Pine Tree be calling? Although I'm guessing it probably wasn't on purpose. Pretty hilarious, considering how worried he was about you and Fez finding out."

"I'll scatter you to the ends of reality, Cipher," Ford threatened, low and gravelly. "What you've done... I will inflict on you a thousand-fold."

"Ooh, spicy! I like it!" Bill's cackles drowned out the sound of Stan's own death threats, and he sat down next to where his Pine Tree had been settled. "Lucky for you, I'm not in much of a mood to rip you apart. It'd make my poor Pine Tree upset if I hurt you, after all." He winked at the human staring at him, mired in misery and defeat. "But uh, I think we're all long overdo for a little chat. Click!" He thumbed the button for the speaker phone, and the noise from the other end was suddenly amplified. "Go on, Pine Tree."

Dipper blinked sluggishly, wondering if it would be better to simply remain silent for the rest of his life. "Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford... I'm sorry. I'm more sorry than I've ever been. Everything.." He shuddered out a sob, numbness exploding into a torrent of self hatred and despair. "It's all my fault. I'm the reason Mabel is dead. I might as well have killed her myself." The truth that had festered within him oozed and spilled forth a rotten pus that threatened to drown him. "I.. I made a deal with Bill, and I didn't pay him back, and helped stop the apocalypse... He.. he killed Mabel to get revenge for what I did. If I hadn't-"

"Kid, I don't know what that monster's been fillin' your head with, but none of this is your fault. He's a sick freak, and you can't blame yourself for what he's done." Stan's voice was cut with rage, and a strange lingering compassion.

Bill leaned against his human's side, one arm slithering around his shoulders. "He's right, Pine Tree. You can't blame yourself for things other people do. Especially because I probably would have had to kill all of you during Weirdmageddon anyway." He paused, and the only sound was the crackle of the phone. "Probably an overshare, there."

"You're really not helping," Dipper muttered, too drained to even point out how stupid of a name 'Weirdmageddon' was. "I know you read what I documented," he ignored Bill's sudden sharp stare, "but that's not everything. I.. things changed. A lot of things. Bill's not... he isn't what he was before," he attempted to explain, words tangling and twisting together in his head. How was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to excuse a murderer?

"Dipper.." Ford's voice was low in an attempt to be soothing, but it was tight with anger. "I know Bill might seem like something he isn't, but he is a _liar_. His entire existence is lying and manipulating those that can give him what he desires. I'm telling you right now, demon, whatever you want from my nephew.. you aren't going to get it."

"Bit late for that, Sixer!" Bill exclaimed, pulling a limp and pliant Pine Tree into his lap. "Well, I don't technically have EVERYTHING I want, but I've got what I need. As soon as-"

"Listen here, you triangular freak!" Stanley barked. "You're going to give us our nephew back, or we're gonna make you regret being spawned from whatever pit you crawled out of!"

"So much fire, it's giving me the vapors!" Bill snickered and pressed his face against the back of Pine Tree's head. "But you should really let the kid talk. Pretty inconsiderate, all this interrupting. Don't you think, Pine Tree?"

Dipper nodded faintly, feeling as though every thought in his head were falling into oblivion. "..I'm not being hurt by Bill. He's not doing anything like he was before. He.. he regrets, what happened. I know you don't believe me," he spoke up before Ford could contradict him, "but it's the truth. And I'm.. I know you probably want to kill him, for what he did to Mabel. But that won't fix anything. It won't bring her back. He's... physical, right now." He turned enough to meet Bill's eyes, wordlessly asking for permission to divulge more information. The demon hummed, before shrugging and grinning toothily at him. "He's in a human body. Or... close to one, I guess. He doesn't have any of his powers, as far as I know. He doesn't have omnipotence, or omniscience. He has real, human emotions, and... he wants to make things better. Killing him- it'll just let him reinhabit his body in the Nightmare Realm, and he'd have free reign to work with infinite power."

"It's true!" Bill chimed in. "Little Pine Tree here.. he's helped me realize a few things. First of all, what I did to Shooting Star... ah, probably shouldn't have done that." He forced an uncomfortable laugh, feeling guilt well up at the mere thought of his actions. "Killing her.. tormenting Pine Tree... well, I can safely say I know what it's like to feel bad about doing heinous things! And boy does it suck!"

"You say Bill is contained in a human vessel?" Ford spoke up, clearly uncaring of whatever excuses the demon made for himself. "I suppose that could prove advantageous.. but we are still coming to get you. Leaving you in his grasp can only end in something terrible. Whether you give us your location or not, we will find you."

The line was cut before Dipper could respond. He clutched the phone in both hands, shoulders shaking with barely restrained sobs. He didn't know what to do. Was there anything he could do at all, or was he just going to be completely useless again? Like he'd always been. Like he always would be. What were Stan and Ford even planning to do with him? Would they just take him with them on their explorations? He doubted it. Would they drop him off in Gravity Falls, to rot until nothing was left amongst reminders of his childhood? All he knew was that he needed Bill with him. He couldn't be alone anymore.

Dipper clutched at the lapels of a well tailored suit, and sobbed in the arms of the monster it contained. 


	40. Uncertainty

Bill Cipher, Master of the Mind and Eye of Providence, held within his arms the shattered shell of a human being. A shell he'd cracked apart over and over again, until the contents began to ooze out. And now he was left to frantically scoop up handfuls of human sludge and stuff them back into their ruined container. He used hands that had split apart flesh to cradle this shuddering body, and used a voice that had spun a million and one lies to try and convey some sort of comfort. "C'mon Pine Tree, it's like you said; everything is gonna get better, right? We've got a plan, now! We'll get your gold, we'll defuse things with Fez and Sixer, and then we can... I dunno, go on adventures or something. Maybe I could... chase you around and pretend to shoot lasers at you. For old times' sake, you know?"

Dipper sniffed and tried to hold back the tide of mucus and saline that had been leaking from his secondary facial orifices for the better part of an hour. They'd have to dry clean Bill's suit, he thought dimly. "..I need to call them again," he eventually managed to formulate. It was the first coherent thing he'd managed since the previous call had ended. "We'll.. we can meet them back in Providence. I just don't want them here."

"Probably a good idea. Who KNOWS what kind of trouble they'd get into! One crazy old dimension hopper, and one crazy old grifter, lost in Caracas! Sounds like the plot to a bad movie, now that I think about it." Bill released Pine Tree from his grasp, allowing the human to fumble for the discarded phone. In the meantime, he stripped off his suit and stuffed it into a compartment of his suitcase, trying and failing to find something to wear that was equally as snazzy. "Y'know, we should buy YOU some new clothes while we're here, Pine Tree. All of your stuff stinks like misery and self neglect."

"Probably a good reason for that," Dipper mumbled, not having the energy to be offended. He dialed his own number once more, unsurprised when it rang all the way until voicemail. He tried to clear his throat of phlegm, but his words were still scratchy and hoarse. "Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford... we'll be back in Providence in a few days, I promise. Just.. stay there, rent a hotel room or something. I'll pay you back. Just don't leave. Please. ..I love you both," he croaked, unsure of when he'd even last said those words. He ended the message and clumsily deposited the phone in its dock. He turned to see Bill half dressed in something surprisingly casual, and caught the demon's eye. "Can we go somewhere? I.. need to get out, for a little while." Honestly, he mostly just wanted to go back to sleep and pretend everything was okay, but that would be a waste of time. At least they'd be doing something in the city, if they went out.

"Yeah, sure! There's a bunch of stuff to do in Caracas! Probably. I haven't been here in about a hundred years, so things are likely to be a bit different." Bill adjusted his bowtie, which was extremely at odds with his simple t-shirt, and flashed his teeth in what was intended to be a charming manner. Dipper barely held back a flinch at the sight of it.

"Do any of those things involve not being mugged, or kidnapped for trafficking purposes?" Dipper trudged over to slip on his shoes, not in the mood to change out of the clothing he'd slept in. He halfheartedly ran his fingers through his hair to give the illusion of trying to fix it, only to give up when he got caught on numerous tangles.

"C'mon Pine Tree, not EVERYTHING here is dangerous." Bill glanced around at the chambers dedicated to a false deity, created by a cult that used an abandoned warehouse complex as their base of operations for human sacrifice. "Like I said, PLENTY of places that are perfectly safe to visit."

"Weren't you _just_ saying that you haven't been here in a hundred years?" Dipper countered sourly. He really would prefer to get the gold and leave, but Bill would probably insist that they spend a few days before taking a flight back.

"You've got a point. Which is why we have-wait, hold on a second." Bill scuttled across the room on all fours, digging around under the bed before he pulled out an ornate wooden lockbox. It was covered in engravings, most prominently the word 'Xiuhcoatl' carved into the lid. He carefully opened the lid, removing something that looked like a combination of an ancient flintlock pistol and a modern day revolver. It was slender and weighty, with a pearly finish and numerous engravings curled around the barrel. "Which is why we have this!"

"Oh my god we are not taking a gun with us." Dipper covered his face with both hands, wondering for a moment what would happen if he simply thumbed his eyeballs out of their sockets. He certainly wouldn't have to worry about being mugged in the near future.

"What's the problem? You're worried about our safety, and I've got our security right here!" Bill waved the gun around emphatically, before he bent back down to begin loading it with the eight rounds that had been stored alongside it. "This isn't your average human deathstick, either. It's engraved with the blessings of Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec god of war. He's not real, of course, but the magic attributed to him is. Anyone you shoot with this... BAM!" Bill's sudden exclamation had Dipper nearly leaping out of his skin. "Instant death. That counts for most supernatural creatures, too. Unless they're of considerable power, that is. Much more effective than an atlatl, don't you think?"

"Wha-why do you even _have_ this? What could have possibly possessed you to have this made? That's a dumb question; what could _you_ have possibly possessed to have this made?" Dipper froze as a pupil home to unfathomable depths pinned him down.

"Pine Tree.. I didn't exactly take omniscience lightly. Everything I've ever done, everything I had ever planned to do... I mapped out each and every eventuality that I could see, and did everything in my power to make sure the path of time followed my exact specifications. I had countless fallbacks and secondary plans, escape routes for virtually every possible situation imaginable. Except for one thing. You were the sole anomaly that I couldn't predict, Pine Tree. At the most crucial moment in human history, you defied my expectations." Bill held the human within his gaze for a moment longer, before a wide grin settled on his face. "Of course, I don't have access to that information right now, so I'm bringin' this thing along just in case! I doubt we'll even have to use it."

"That rules out going anywhere with a metal detector," Dipper managed, after he had recovered from Bill's sudden intensity. "Let's just... go shopping, I guess. Get something to eat, maybe. Visit a park and get mugged. Sounds like a wonderful trip." He stared dead faced at Bill's encouraging grin, practically able to see his reflection on the surface of interlocking needles. He sighed out a breath, and allowed the demon to lead him out of the chambers. He was sure he was going to regret this.

Twenty two hundred miles north, a debacle of a different nature was taking place. Stan and Ford were stationed in Dipper's bedroom, Ford sat at the desk and typing away at his own personal laptop while Stan paced back and forth, white knuckled grip threatening to damage the phone in his grasp. "Well?" Stan barked, feeling his tension snap. "What've you got? Where's he at?"

"The number he called from was unregistered," Ford replied absently, eyes glued to his screen. "I've narrowed it down to being Venezuelan, but beyond that I'm not sure I can track down an exact location." For a moment, there was a tense set to his shoulders and an increased intensity to his typing, before a forced calm washed over him.

Stan had no such luck. "Great, fantastic. What are we supposed to _do_ , Sixer? We can't leave him with Cipher; whatever he's done to twist the kid's head around... we have to put a stop to it." He glanced down at the phone in his hand, heart twisting at the thought that it might hold the last words he'd ever hear from his nephew.

"Bill has always had a way with... inflicting psychological harm," Ford muttered, forcibly blocking out memories that threatened to resurface. "Dipper is a formidable young man, but I fear the worst for his mental health. There might be a way to undo some of the damage, but it would require further testing, and there's no guarantee that it would completely reverse Bill's.. efforts."

Stan snorted in derision, foot tapping with nervous impatience. "Great. More waitin' around, twiddling our thumbs while that demon gets to run around scot free. What about the message? You think Cipher put him up to it?"

Ford sighed and removed his glasses, trying to rub away the ache forming behind his eyes. "I'm uncertain. Bill's motives in this scenario have been.. unusual, when compared to his previous endeavors and his standard modus operandi. I'm honestly unable to discern what he could possibly require from Dipper, other than brief entertainment. And why bother trying to convince us that he's had a change of heart? Surely he doesn't think we'd be stupid enough to fall for his tricks."

Stan ceased his pacing, leaning heavily against the desk and trying to ignore the pain that lingered in his shoulder. "From what you've told me, he's the type to underestimate everyone around him. And that's exactly what's gonna let us get the jump on him."

"Assuming Dipper's information wasn't false," Ford countered. "If Bill really is contained in a human vessel, with no access to his supernatural abilities... well, he'd certainly be easy enough to contain and subdue."

"And what then, genius? We can't exactly take him with us around the world." Stan gestured widely as he talked, hands jerking back and forth in frustration. "If we leave him unsupervised, he's either gonna chew his own tongue off to get back in the Nightmare Realm, or escape. And there's no possible way we're leavin' Dipper with him. I say we just cut out the middle man and bust his lights out, permanently."

"While that would certainly be a satisfying course of action, I don't believe it to be the ideal one. Despite all my research, and all our findings, we still don't have the means to destroy Bill, wholly and utterly. Whatever we do, he'll be back in one way or another."

"Fantastic," Stan spat bitterly. "So what, we just can't ever be rid of this freak?" The thought had his blood boiling, and he relished its presence. It was better than the dark waves that lapped at the shores of his mind, threatening to flood it with a tide of grief.

"With our current knowledge and means, yes, we can't get rid of him," Ford replied succinctly. "Perhaps in time we will find a method to seal him away, or obliterate him from existence entirely... but I fear time is something we are running short on."

"Perfect." Stan sighed through his nose and glanced back down at Dipper's phone. "..Let's hope we got enough of it to figure somethin' out."

Five hours later, Dipper could feel the hemorrhaging of his bank account pulse alongside the fluttering of his mangled heart. He stared down the vessel of Bill Cipher, clad in an elegantly cut suit, complete with a slim top hat and a rigid black cane. The suit fit like a glove, and was a much more tasteful shade of yellow than the original suit jacket he'd showed up in. A black velvet eyepatch was secured over the milky orb of his right eye, and had a little triangle stitched on it in golden thread. He was the most sharply dressed abomination that Dipper had ever seen, and the sight was doing unpleasant things to his insides.

"Finally, I am complete!" Bill crowed, twirling his cane with deft fingers. His shiny black wingtips clicked imposingly with each step around the concrete floored bedchamber, and he spun on a heel in such a manner that his tailcoat flared outwards. "Ohhh, you have NO idea how good it feels to be properly dressed. C'mon, Pine Tree, celebrate with me!" He used the end of his cane to push Pine Tree forward, ignoring the startled yelp and the impact against his chest. He rested a head of tangled hair against his breast pocket, opposite the one containing his Xiuhcoatl revolver. "Dance with me, Pine Tree, dance!"

"W-we don't even have any music!" Dipper protested, even as he was forcibly manipulated into a waltzing position. The demon began swaying him violently, and his head was swimming before long.

"That's why we have the beauty of improvisational acapella!" Bill paused in their swaying to clear his throat, before he began loudly scatting an upbeat diddy in between outbursts of cackles. He pulled his Pine Tree to and fro, uncaring of the actual steps necessary for waltzing. He devoured each yipe and yelp of surprise as though they were physical morsels, but they were not enough to satisfy his hunger. As he eventually ran out of breath, he paused in the middle of the room, staring thoughtfully at Pine Tree's dazed expression.

"Was that really necessar-" Dipper was cut off as a panting mouth was pressed over his own, lips crushing together with painful force. He whined against the oral assault, but made no marked effort to put a stop to it. Instead he placed one tremoring hand on a pallid, sharply cut cheek, and gently applied his own pressure to the melding of mouths. Dipper Pines was not right in the head. A slowly creeping depression had been exacerbated and compounded on by his encounter with a creature that had threatened to completely destroy his mind. Isolation, desperation, deterioration.. they all followed shortly after. The one remaining light in his life was extinguished before he could even blink, and the culprit was in his arms, kissing him with an unsure passion.

Dipper Pines wasn't right in the head, but he wasn't sure he cared anymore.


	41. Dead of Noon

Dipper Pines suffered under the unforgiving rays of an alarmingly close sun, given power over the Earth by its equatorial proximity. He wasn't even entirely sure why he needed to be subjected to the blazing heat of the Venezuelan summer. After two days of pretending that everything was okay and touring around Caracas, Bill had abruptly decided it was time to retrieve the gold. According to Bill himself, he and his cultists had gone out in the night to begin the extraction two days earlier, and all there was left to do was retrieve what little remained, and load the gold onto secure transport trucks to bring them across the border. So now he stood against the side of one such van, trying to use the paltry shade it provided to keep from passing out. Years of (comparatively) mild Oregon summers had left him unprepared for the sweltering heat of South America.

He watched broodingly as Bill directed his underlings with wide, sweeping gestures and a booming voice. He spoke in a language that Dipper didn't recognize, one heavy on syllables and rich with consonants. If he had to guess, he'd say it was whatever language the Aztecs had originally spoken. He'd attempted to catch a few glimpses of the gold, only to find it either wrapped in thick layers of tattered coverings as it was extracted from the ground, or out of view entirely as it was shut away in the backs of trucks. Left with nothing else to do, he sluggishly pulled long grasses from the ground, and tied them together. He felt like a child again, brought to one of his father's business cookouts and then ignored for the entire duration. At least at those he'd had sub-par barbecue to eat, and Mabel to distract him.

He perked up as the steady thrumming of Bill's voice cut away. He peered around the side of the van, only to find the rest of the cultists frozen in place, save for one who was hastily fumbling with his jacket, and attempting to be discreet about it. Bill's burning gaze tore through the man, and he approached with an air of menace. "YOU. YEAH, YOU. THOUGHT I WOULDN'T SEE YOU, HUH? WELL, MORTAL, LET ME REMIND YOU OF ONE LITTLE THING..." Bill reached down to remove Xiuhcoatl from where it was tucked under his belt, whipping out the enchanted revolver and aiming it at the center of the trembling cultist's forehead. "I see everything. **BOOM**!" The echoing crack of igniting gunpowder rang out, and Dipper watched in fascinated horror as the man's head erupted like a hand grenade stuffed into a watermelon. Chunks of skull fragments and flesh spattered to the blood soaked grasses underfoot, and the now headless body slumped over. Bill blew away the smoke curling from the barrel of his gun, and whistled a little tune as he leaned down to began rifling through the corpse's jacket to retrieve a crudely shaped gold ingot. He tossed it to a motionless cultist, who fumbled to catch it.

That was apparently the sign that everything was perfectly fine, for the work was resumed without another word. Dipper ducked back behind the truck as Bill's gaze swept over the area. He felt severely nauseous, and the heat wasn't helping. But beyond that... watching the brutal execution of another human being in person left him... numb. Perhaps it was just the shock, dulling the disgust and horror he should surely be drenched in. Or it might be a product of his mind; a mental block designed to protect him. Dipper was left wishing he'd studied psychology more thoroughly, so that he could at least pretend to know what was happening to him. Maybe he really _was_  just growing numb to the demon's brutality. Maybe it was because he knew what lurked underneath the bloodthirsty, psychopathic surface of Bill Cipher. More likely, he was delirious and foggy headed from the sun, and really needed something to drink.

He eventually slunk around to approach the enigmatic demon masquerading as a god, catching Bill's attention with a quiet utterance of his name. "Oh, hey Pine Tree. Gee, you don't look so hot! Or, the opposite. Very hot." Bill loped over to sling an arm around his shoulders, bringing him in for a one sided embrace. "Lucky for you, we're just about done! We'll have all this sweet tasty Aztec gold packed away in a few minutes, and then we can head back to leave for the airport in the morning. After that show, I think these lovely followers of mine know exactly what not to try."

Dipper blanched at the press of the revolver against his side, an uncomfortable chill spreading down his spine despite the oppressive heat. He closed his eyes, and saw a snapshot of a human face being ripped apart by an explosion fueled by gunpowder and ancient arcane energies. "We, uh... th-that's good. I think. Bill, we really need to talk about what's going to happen when we get back."

Bill grinned down in what was surely meant to be a reassuring manner at his Pine Tree, and ignored the squeak of terror as he tightened his hold. "Don't you worry about a thing, Pine Tree. We'll just have a nice little chat with Fez and Sixer, let 'em know I'm sorry about what happened, and then they can be on their merry way! Forever, preferably."

"What makes you think they'll even believe us?" Dipper replied pessimistically. He could already imagine that the best case scenario would be exile from the Pines family name, and then he'd be cut off from all contact with Stan and Ford for the rest of their lives. Only.. hadn't that been what he was doing before? He'd been pretending they wouldn't ever know, pretending there would never be consequences for what happened. He wondered if they'd even had time to mourn. No, of course not. They were likely too distracted with thoughts of revenge, thoughts of rescue. They were trying to avoid acknowledging that Mabel was dead, and never coming back, just like he had done. Dipper could very clearly imagine the fresh, ripping agony and blinding disbelief that they must be experiencing. While perhaps the disbelief had been shed with his psyche being cemented in reality (despite the crumbling foundations), the pain was all too raw.

"There's no guarantee that they will. I'm good at lying, kid, not telling the truth. But as long as everyone walks away alive, then I'm satisfied." Despite the casual tone of Bill's voice, Dipper could see the twitching of his facial muscles. He was certain the demon wouldn't mind leaving two more corpses behind. At least, not immediately. He might come to regret it in time, but Dipper wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if Stan and Ford never wanted to see him after this... knowing they were alive was good enough.

"Alright, I think that was the last of it," Bill stated, after a long moment of silence. He led his Pine Tree over to the series of carefully dug holes that had originally housed the ancient gold, glancing over them superficially to be sure they were truly emptied. When all he spied was crumbling earth, he plastered on a satisfied grin. "Looks like our work here is done! Now we've just gotta ship it out, and you'll be a millionaire, Pine Tree." Bill sniffed melodramatically, wiping at the corner of his eyepatch. "I'm so proud!"

"I didn't even do anything," Dipper muttered, torn between his desire to lean closer to the misshapen body beside him, and his desire to crawl into one of those air conditioned vans so that he could finally escape the heat. "Are we leaving, then? I'm pretty sure I'll catch on fire if I'm out here much longer."

"Don't worry, the air is too moist for a proper wildfire. Your kindling won't be for a long while yet." Bill replied with unwavering surety. He ran his fingers through Pine Tree's sweat slicked hair, and untangled a few stubborn knots. "Yeah, we can go. My little cultists know what to do from here." His eight fingered grip lowered to grasp a slightly clammy hand, and lead the body it was attached to into a van that he knew they had arrived in. He squeezed them into the back, knocking on the separating layer between them and the front two seats to alert the driver. The engine rumbled to life, tires carrying them over the uneven, unpaved ground.

"You know I'm not _actually_ a tree, right?" Dipper mumbled, receiving only a snicker in return. He leaned against a stick thin shoulder, bone cutting into his cheek. He ignored the discomfort in favor of his own drowsiness, brought on by the slowly lessening heat and his proximity to a familiar body. Some part of Dipper considered this almost.. nice. Were the circumstances different, perhaps he might be able to freely admit that he liked being close to Bill, listening to him breathe during a quiet car ride. He honestly wasn't sure if he'd ever really experienced that. Maybe he had when he was younger and more prone to falling asleep in the car. But every other time he'd been in a moving vehicle for a long period of time, he was either by himself, or with Mabel. Mabel had certainly never brought forth imaginings of quiet, sleepy car rides, and being the one driving didn't allow much time for relaxation. But when Bill wasn't cackling in his ear, or blasting death metal... Dipper inhaled the scent of sweat and gunpowder, mixed with a faint curl of expensive shampoo, and began drifting off. He dreamed of colorful sweaters, hot summer afternoons, and headless corpses.

Bill peered down at the sleeping being pressed against him, fingers clutched in the fabric of his sweat stained shirt. The scent of earthy dust and perspiration met his nostrils, but beneath it he could just about make out the aroma of dead pine. Smell was probably one of the most interesting of the human senses, Bill mused. It was something entirely unavailable to him in his true form, and something dulled to the point of almost being nonexistent when he inhabited the bodies of others. He'd never once known such a visceral, primal connection to human senses, and it was... well, he would certainly pine for them when this body expired. He stifled a cackle at his own wording, strangely mindful of the dozing man under his arm. He could hardly even think of Pine Tree as a man, most days. His face, lined with exhaustion and despair, was still that of a youth. He was soft, and pliable, yet still taut enough to hold form. The perfect suit for a mind that Bill adored.

The mind that he had nearly crushed, he reminded himself. A delicate working of glass and wires and struts that he had taken his heel to, simply to revel in the destruction. And now he had to fit those pieces back together without even knowing where they had been in the first place. But not everything was lost. Sure, Pine Tree was a bit on the... hopelessly unhinged side of things, but he was still coherent, and capable of conversation. Bill considered that a personal victory.

The biggest problem left to deal with was the two old morons that threatened to ruin everything. Either they'd try to capture/kill him and he'd leave them in chunks, or he'd convince them to beat it back to whatever run down dinghy they'd been sailing in until their frail little hearts gave out. No matter the outcome, he was sure Pine Tree would be worse off for it. He just needed to think of something else, a third solution that would leave his favorite human.. maybe not better, but certainly not even more damaged. Those codgers knew better than to trust him, which was something he begrudgingly respected on most days. But now he NEEDED them to believe something that was actually TRUE, and there was no way it'd happen. The fourth possible outcome was one he barely even bothered considering. Sure, Fordsie was a crafty thing, and Fez was a resourceful thing, but their chances of killing off this body were slim. But even so, he had to be wary. Leaving himself unguarded was asking for a worst case scenario to occur, and that was unacceptable. Bill may not have access to his vast wealth of knowledge at the moment, but there was one thing he knew for sure.

He wasn't leaving his Pine Tree. 


	42. Code

  
A hazy blur occupied the cracks and crevices of Dipper's unconscious mind, while the remaining empty space was filled with vividly bright swirls of color. Glistening blood soaked into the fibers of pink dyed wool, and blazing white stars streaked across the cerulean sky. He was immaterial, intangible to all that surrounded him. He heard a voice calling his name from across the eons. It was a voice he'd be able to recognize for the rest of his limited eternity.

"-ne Tree, it's time to wake up! Well, not according to cosmic law or anything, but according to ME it is! Which is as close to cosmic law as you can get, now that I think about it-" Bill's ramblings continued to drag Dipper's consciousness back to reality, piece by rotten piece. He sluggishly blinked his eyes open, immediately aware of the uncomfortable scratchiness of his clothes, plastered to him in patches by drying sweat. His head rang like a fleet of church bells, a headache throbbing pointedly behind his temples. Bill's continued spewing of nonsense wasn't helping.

"M'awake," Dipper finally groaned out, and blessed silence sank in as it managed to quiet the babbling demon. He raised his head from the indentation it'd formed in a pillow much too soft to be comfortable, blinking blearily at a face located unsettlingly close to his own. "Have you ever heard of a concept called 'personal space'?"

"Sure have! Didn't much care for it, honestly." In direct contrast to his words, Bill put a comfortable distance between them. He was once more dressed in his newest suit, which Dipper was sure had put a sizable dent in what remained of his dwindling funds. At least that wouldn't be an issue for much longer. "Anyway, I was thinking we should go out to dinner and celebrate your soon to be upper crust status! Also I'm hungry, and that's a very pressing issue that requires immediate attention."

"With all your talk of disgusting human physicality, I never would have expected you to like food so much," Dipper managed to say semi-coherently, pulling himself from between silken sheets and hastily stripping off his sweaty clothes. "Do I at least have time for a shower before we have to 'attend to pressing issues'?"

"Taste buds are a lot different when they don't belong to someone else," was all Bill had to say on the matter, surprisingly. "And I already made reservations, so you can go dunk your head in the sink before we leave."

"Why didn't you wake me up _earlier_?" Dipper whined without any of the annoyance he had been attempting to convey. He trudged over to the corner of the room that held all the bathroom utilities, snatching a bottle of shampoo and dunking his head under the sink.

"Because you were just so cute, all worn out from heat exhaustion!" Bill was suddenly at his side when he had ceased almost drowning himself, the demon carefully adjusting his top hat and eyepatch. The dapper accessories did little to mask his sallow complexion and abnormal features, but he seemed more than satisfied with the monstrosity that stared back at him. "Also I like to watch you get flustered when we need to get somewhere on time. It's very entertaining."

"And here I thought you _weren't_ torturing me anymore," Dipper complained as he lathered shampoo in his hair. He realized suddenly that it gave off the same scent as Bill himself, and a patch of color rose to his lifeless face. He immediately dunked his head back under the faucet.

"This torture is on the mild end at worst," Bill replied flippantly, spinning on a heel to cross the room and begin pulling articles of clothing out of Dipper's suitcase. "You're extremely lucky I had the brilliant idea to update your wardrobe, because I'm pretty sure you forgot to bring anything containing even an ounce of class."

"It's not like I had much reason to dress up," Dipper argued, his voice slightly wobbly from the force he used to dry his hair. "I wasn't exactly outgoing, you know." Dipper hung the damp towel up, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to make it look halfway decent. In the end, he looked like a freshly washed mental patient, and decided that it would do.

"Which is exactly why you're lucky! Without me around, you wouldn't have any excuse to dress up in fancy clothing!" Bill flung a pile of clothes at Pine Tree, grinning at the mad scramble to catch them out of the air. He watched with unabashed interest as Pine Tree dressed up, in simple dark slacks, a summery blue dress shirt, and an evergreen tie. He could have spent all night watching Pine Tree's fingers fumble to properly knot the tie, but he was hungry and impatient. "Allow me, dear Pine Tree." He stalked over, relieving hands that trembled imperceptibly from their task, and allowing his own experienced fingers to do the job. Tying a tie was quite different from a bowtie, but he'd spent enough time studying the motions to complete the task swiftly and efficiently. He'd spent so much time studying it that he was able to easily split his focus, paying extremely close attention to the barest hint of a flush on his Pine Tree's face. It was certainly a sight he could stand to see more than once.

Dipper attempted to wrestle back whatever few scraps remained of his composure, cursing his fingers' inability to function with the steadiness they once had. It had to be something psychological, because Dipper was entirely sure there was no nerve damage to blame the trembling on. He eventually realized that Bill was staring at him with a burning intensity, and swallowed a lump in his throat. He swiftly turned away in favor of looking for his newly purchased loafers, attempting to ignore how that stare made his chest tighten and flood with warmth. "Without you around, I wouldn't have had to go to Venezuela to get a cult to unearth ten million dollars worth of ancient Aztec gold."

"I'm sure you would have at some point or another," Bill dismissed. "It's something every young man does at least once in his life." He cackled at the quizzical stare he earned, and collected his cane from where it was leaned against the bed. It was too short to actually aid him in walking, but it was snazzy and capable of bludgeoning someone to death, so Bill was all for it.

"I'm not going to bother pretending like that makes sense." Dipper found himself relieved that he wouldn't get another chance to embarrass himself by trying to lace his shoes as he slipped into his loafers. They fit him just snugly enough that he wouldn't easily step out of them, which he was equally grateful for. Certainly better than his old pair, which had been too small for seven years. He glanced up as a warm hand brushed against his shoulder, and stared straight into the face of the earthly manifestation of demonic dapperness. He took Bill's offered arm, feeling something flutter weakly in his petrified chest cavity. Things had been mostly alright, on this venture. Maybe that luck would hold up a little longer.

Half a world away, whatever luck had originally been scraped together seemed all but lost. Stan and Ford sat in silence at Dipper's kitchen table, which was covered in loose papers and parchments, a screwdriver, Ford's boxy laptop, and a box of off-brand cereal. Ford tapped away at his keyboard without an offered word, brow furrowed and expression pinched sourly.

Stan looked no better. Something bleak had settled over his face, occasionally warring with twitches of anger. He glanced down at the scattered parchments in front of him, huffing a frustrated sigh before he reached for another handful of cereal. "And you're positive that you can't translate-"

The entire table shook as Ford's fist collided with it, his head whipping up and a glare settled behind his spectacles. "For the eleventh time, Stanley, _no_ , I cannot translate the Atlantean sea scroll. It is well beyond my limited means at this exact moment. Even if I had the resources of my lab in Gravity Falls, it could take _months_ before I am able to crack the cipher. And even so, it likely doesn't even contain a spell that could aid us in our endeavors."

Stan grit his teeth in frustration, eyes flicking away from his brother's tired glare. "...Sounds like quitter talk to me," he muttered just loud enough to be heard.

" _Well_ ," Ford snapped, six fingered fist clenching until the knuckles turned white, "If you'd like to provide some sort of cosmic solution that you've miraculously plucked from the heavens, then please, be my guest."

"Look, all I'm saying-" Stan paused, rummaging around in his cereal box for a moment before he extracted a plastic decoder ring. "All I'm saying, is that I've never seen a cipher that you couldn't crack. What's so different about this one?"

"The difference is that the code doesn't match up with any ciphers created in the era that Atlantis sank." Ford rubbed at his temples, eyes briefly catching on the plastic ring in Stan's hand. "..Unless the cipher used _wasn't_ created when the city sank. Perhaps it was created much more recently."

Stan squinted, first at the decoder ring and then at his brother. "Uh. I think you lost me, smart guy. How exactly could it have been created _after_ Atlantis went under?"

Ford's focus had shifted down to a particularly tattered scroll of parchment, which he was now scanning feverishly. "Because it's very possible that the Atlanteans survived the sinking of their city. They had access to many ancient, powerful magics. It isn't outside the realm of reason that they could use magic to become more... aquatically inclined, and survive well beyond that age." Ford scribbled numbers down onto a blank piece of paper, before remembering the laptop well within his reach. He began tapping away with fervor, glancing quickly between his screen, his notes, and the parchment in question. Stan watched him work with the quiet, begrudging respect that always welled up when he was privy to his brother's talents. After several long minutes, Ford removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, before flashing an exhilarated grin at Stan. "Well, it appears I may have found a solution. One that came not from the heavens above.. but from the waters below."

Dipper Pines sat in a room of concrete and sheet metal, dressed up like the ornate chambers of a god. The demon that played the part of said god was enshrouded in silken sheets, dead to the world by way of restful slumber. Dipper occasionally glanced his way, catching flashes of a pale, hideous face that he was disgustingly enamoured with. He periodically thought of the night he'd spent with the being that wore that face, a quiet night of fine foods and sweet drinks and whispered poetry. But mostly he thought of the day ahead, and what events would transpire within its limits. He thought of an ornate wooden box, left open on the floor. He thought of gleaming metal and a headless corpse.

Dipper Pines sat with a gun in his hand until the sun rose. 


	43. Guiding Hand

Consciousness came to Bill in fingers and waves, clawing and crashing and caressing and flowing. The sensation still proved to be as exciting and disarming as it had the first time he'd experienced it. He spent several long moments luxuriating in the stages between slumber and wakefulness, feeling particularly unenthusiastic about reaching full consciousness. But his mastery of the mind did not extend to physical chemicals, which stimulated his brain until his eyes were blinking open, one pupil burning into the ceiling. He allowed wisps of thought to whisper through his head, almost sure that one of them was a dream. But he hadn't ever dreamed before, so it was difficult to say. He turned over onto his side, eye searching for the warm body that inhabited the bed alongside him. But it wasn't there. No wonder he'd woken up so cold, Bill mused faintly. "Pine Treeeee, you're not supposed to wake up before me!"

"It's a good thing I didn't wake up, then," came a dry, hoarse response. Bill peered over the edge of the bed, and a haunted Pine Tree was there to greet his searching gaze. He was paler than usual, drained of blood more than pigment. The only real spots of color lived under his eyes, heavy purple splotches that marred thin flesh. He was holding something out of Bill's field of view, but the heady thrum of magic in the air made it clear what he held so tightly.

"I don't think Xiuhcoatl appreciates being kept from his slumber," Bill chastised, pushing down the blunt panic that hammered against his insides. "And I don't think you appreciate being kept from YOUR slumber, either." He crawled out of the bed on hand and foot, joints popping as their nighttime stiffness was relieved.

"I'll sleep on the plane," Dipper just barely muttered, trembling fingers tracing the barrel of the revolver. Part of him wondered how the magic of the Aztecs had come to be in the first place, without their gods. Of course, that brought up the question of how magic had come into existence in the _first_ place, and he was much too tired and listless to give that much thought at the moment. "..Why do you call it Zee-uh-cuh-watle anyway?" Dipper's pronunciation was stilted and slurred, but so was the rest of his speech.

"Xiuhcoatl means 'turquoise serpent' in Nahuatl," Bill explained, feeling somewhat excited to be able to share knowledge again. "It also means 'fire serpent'. Xiuhcoatl was the spirit manifestation of the god of fire, and was used as a weapon by Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. I thought it a fitting name, for a magical instrument of death."

Dipper traced a chewed fingernail along one of the more simplistic engravings, mulling over Bill's words. "Why bother naming it after an Aztec myth if none of them are real?"

"Look, I'll be straight with you. As hilariously erroneous as humans can be about literally everything, the incorrect nonsense you came up with to explain the world around you was pretty interesting. And easy to take advantage of, naturally." Bill reached down to gently pry the enchanted weapon from Pine Tree's grip, and frowned as pale fingers instantly went limp. "You should probably wash yourself before we go. Maybe that'll help keep you awake until we get on the plane." He watched with stern intent as Pine Tree slowly, unsteadily rose to his feet. He stifled a yawn and trudged toward the shower cubicle, and Bill finally turned his gaze away. He carefully set Xiuhcoatl back in its box, snapping the lid shut and then tossing it into his backpack. He zipped it as silently as possible, keeping his eye on Pine Tree. He'd really have to invest in a second functioning eye on his next physical form.

Dipper remained oblivious to everything around him, fingers fumbling to remove his clothes and toss them haphazardly on the floor. He could pick them up later. He struggled to remember where the knob was for the shower, eyes wide yet unseeing before he caught it with a digit. A spray of icy water was soon to greet him, and he didn't even have the energy to yelp in surprise. He merely shivered and quietly endured the slowly warming water, until it became hot enough to stifle his breathing with steam. He swung a limp arm out to grab.. something, and ended up knocking that something to the floor with a clatter. He attempted to crouch down and retrieve it, but the trembling of his calves had him collapsing to the floor himself. He sat propped up against the shower wall, breaths shaking as badly as his hands. He didn't know what was wrong. All he knew was that his insides ached terribly, and there was a pressure behind his eyes that just couldn't be relieved, no matter how hard he tried.

"Hey, it's okay. Let's get you up on your feet, alright?" Bill's voice, normally a piercing shriek on the best of days, was consciously lowered to a tolerable volume. Dipper stared at the floor as eight fingered hands grasped under his arms, and slowly lifted him onto his feet. He leaned back against something solid and warm, which he blearily realized was Bill himself. He pressed closer to that sickly torso, attempting to keep his balance as familiar hands lathered soap over his bare skin. He acquiesced to each gentle suggestion of movement, allowing himself to be manipulated like a doll. His chest still throbbed with a pain beyond physicality, but he found it a little easier to breathe, even with the steam. He was left to stand under his own power for a brief moment as Bill washed every inch of him, slowly lifting one foot, and then the other. Before his legs could betray him again, that solid weight was present once more, keeping him anchored. He uttered a tiny, breathy sound as shampoo bearing hands dug into his tangled locks, wincing and whining whenever fingers caught on tangles. But eventually it became a soothing pressure, gnarled digits gently kneading his scalp and running through his hair. "Eyes closed, Pine Tree," Bill warned, and Dipper obediently shut his eyes. He was directed underneath the spray, suds washed from his hair and body and leaving dark strands plastered against his neck.

"..I'm sorry," Dipper managed to croak out, his mouth and throat still horribly dry despite the moisture in the air. He could feel the question rising through Bill's diaphragm, and cut it off before it could be voiced. "I'm sorry for being useless, and pathetic. I don't... I-I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding water.

"Wow, humans really ARE wrong about everything." Bill grinned at the air of puzzlement that settled around his Pine Tree, angling that distraught face towards his own. "If you were useless and pathetic, do you REALLY think I'd have kept you around? Useless things bore me, Pine Tree. But you've always interested me, kept me wanting more. And now that I have you.." Bill slid a hand up from Pine Tree's jaw to cup his cheek, which was flushed red from the heat. "Let's just say I take care of what's mine."

"..Yours," Dipper breathed, as if the word were something foreign, something he'd never encountered before. Somewhere, beyond the haze of delirium and within the twisted vortex of thoughts and feelings that occupied his perforated mind, the word clicked into place. "Yeah. Yours." He pressed his face against a chest beaded with moisture, and felt a pulsing heart beat under his cheek. He belonged to Bill. He always had. There was no escaping a power like Bill Cipher, once his gaze was solidified. And Dipper couldn't help but feel honored that the All Seeing Eye had fallen upon him.

"C'mon, Pine Tree; let's get you dressed. We have a flight to catch." Bill walked his greatest treasure out of the shower, toweling him off with care. He wiped beads of water off pinked skin, enamoured with how very alive his Pine Tree looked; a dead trunk soaked through, given the illusion of healthy growth. Bill had always found corpses particularly charming. He grabbed a handful of clothing off the floor and stuffed it into Dipper's suitcase, before rummaging around for a clean outfit. He picked something worn and comfortable, entirely sure that the kid wouldn't appreciate being gussied up at the moment. He aided Pine Tree with his dressing, having less to do as the man grew more autonomous. He moved sluggishly, hands fumbling and lethargic, but at least he could put his shirt on. "We'll be home soon," Bill murmured into a head of dull brown curls, "and everything will get better. Okay?"

Dipper accepted the words as the unassailable truth that he desperately hoped for. "..Yeah. Yeah, okay." He was going to be fine. Bill was going to be fine. Everything would get better. He'd never be right again. Things would never be like they had been, before death and putridity had infected every crevice of his existence. Now the Eye had consumed him, wholly and utterly. There wasn't enough of him left to be who he had been. All he could do now was piece together the scraps, with Bill's guiding hand.

Dipper Pines would find himself again, with Bill Cipher's Providence. 


	44. Meeting

The journey through the Simón Bolívar International Airport was quiet and uneventful. Dipper found himself nearly deafened to the sound of shifting crowds around him. The airport itself was sprawling, but not intimidatingly large. They managed to find their way. Handing over their luggage was a simple affair, and surprisingly, Dipper didn't have to force Bill away from the security checkpoint. He almost seemed eager to get through it. Before long Bill had reverted to his usual boisterous mania, cracking jokes that were terrible both in their subject manner and ability to be found humorous. His cackles earned them strange looks, but Dipper couldn't find it in him to care. Being subjected to the scrutiny of strangers had never been his favorite circumstance, but there was nothing to be done about it. He merely hunched his shoulders, and focused on the high pitched voice of his companion. He did little in the way of contributing to the conversation, save a few shrugs, and monosyllabic answers. Bill eventually gave up on trying to coax complex sentences out of him, and resumed babbling about anything that came to mind. It was a bizarrely soothing soundtrack to be subjected too.

They sat down for breakfast at a small cafe, table laden with food before long. Dipper stared blearily at the flaky pastries, berries, and cured meats that Bill had piled onto his plate, hands wrapped loosely around the steaming cup of coffee the demon had pushed into his grasp. "I don't think I can eat all of this," he whispered without meaning to, having little energy to speak at a normal volume. He took a sip of his coffee, lips burning from the heat and tongue recoiling from the bitter taste. He didn't bother reaching for the sweetener.

"I'll eat whatever you don't," Bill replied in a manner that was supposed to be reassuring. "But eat as much as you can now, because the food on the plane will be ridiculously sub-par. Also you'll probably be too busy sleeping to eat." Bill snagged a handful of sugar packets from the container on the table, ripping them open one by one and dumping them into Pine Tree's coffee. "I'm going to keep doing this until you tell me to stop," he warned, and also said in a bid to catch his human's waning attention.

"T-three is good," Dipper stuttered, slightly taken aback by Bill's vehemence. Not that he should be, or anything; the demon was always turned up a few levels higher than any human being had a right to be. He unglued one hand from his uncomfortably warm mug to reach for a container of creamer, fingers fumbling to actually grab it. After a short period of trial and error, he finally managed to manipulate his coffee into something drinkable. The diminished burn pooled into a soothing warmth as it traveled into his stomach, slowly branching out to warm his extremities. He stared deep into the earthy brown depths of his mug, hyper aware of the gaze boring into his head.

"SO," Bill began at a conversational yell, "any particular reason you didn't see fit to actually fall asleep last night?" He paused between words to shred a banana, and Dipper found himself enraptured by the sight of those teeth in action. Bill raised a brow at the faraway look he received, and snapped his fingers. "Hey, I know I've got a dashing smile, but I asked you a question."

"R..right. Sorry." Dipper attributed his flush to the heat of the coffee, and tried to organize his drifting thoughts. "I uhm.. I was just wired, I guess." He noticed Bill's gaze flicker to his untouched plate of food, and reluctantly grasped for his fork to begin spearing tiny morsels. Everything tasted a little bitter on his tongue, and he once more placed blame on the coffee.

"Wired, huh?" Bill questioned, once it became clear that Pine Tree wouldn't elaborate without prompting. "How do you mean? You didn't chew on any wires, did you? I'm pretty sure YOU'RE the one that told ME not to do that."

"No, not like that. It was too many..." Dipper made a vague gesture near the side of his head, "thoughts, I guess." He heaved a ragged sigh, feeling as if he were expelling all the feeble energy still present within him. "..I'm scared, Bill," he whispered, daring to look up and catch the demon's eye. That monstrous face was pulled into something that Dipper might one day call sympathy. "I don't know what's going to happen, and neither do you. Even if it _is_ as easy as just talking to Stan and Ford.. I can't even imagine what we'll tell them. And whatever we _do_ tell them... there's no way they'll believe us. They probably think I'm being... mind controlled, or something. They'll use any excuse to paint you as the bad guy, and me as some... gullible, naive victim."

"To be fair, I kinda am the bad guy," Bill offered, raising his hands in defense against the tired glare pointed his way. "I'm just sayin', kid, I'm not exactly a paragon of goodness, like you said." He felt something faintly bitter rise in the back of his throat at the reminder of their argument, and he could tell from the withdrawn expression on Pine Tree's face that he was thinking of it too. "It'll be pretty hard to convince them that I'm not up to something nefarious. And since I'm sure you don't want me to trick them, despite that being literally my most honed talent, we'll have to come up with a way to present the truth in a manner they can't ignore."

"Yeah, but how are we supposed to do that?" Dipper countered, groaning at the mild shrug he received. "I'm terrible with words, and you're only good at lying. And even if you _did_ lie, they'd see right through it because you made sure Ford would never trust anything you said ever again."

Bill chewed carefully on his lip, somehow managing to avoid puncturing the skin. "I wish I had some cosmic knowledge to drop on you, but I'm afraid that's a bit out of my reach. The best we can really do is hope they listen." Bill thought briefly of the revolver sealed within its chest. "And hope things don't turn ugly, of course."

Dipper nodded morosely, picking at his half finished plate of food. He glanced up as a warm palm settled over his own, fingers almost completely engulfing his hand. He stared into a ring of golden fire, and the infinite darkness it contained. And Bill stared back, into bloodshot eyes rimmed with liquid brown, and pupils that wavered in and out of focus. "Everything will get better, Pine Tree," Bill repeated, spreading his lips in a chainsaw grin.

"..."Dipper nodded a little more resolutely, eyes catching on the outrageously expensive watch that Bill had slapped around his wrist. "..Our flight is going to be boarding soon. We should finish up." He watched in bemusement as Bill immediately released his hand in favor of grabbing up his unfinished food. Luckily it took very little time for him to finish.

"Alright Pine Tree, let's get this show on the road! You have no idea how excited I am to finally be getting back home," Bill stated slightly louder than was necessary, snagging Pine Tree's wrist and practically dragging him out of his seat. He walked them somewhat more quickly than was needed towards their terminal, briefly catching the thoughtful look on Pine Tree's face. His attention was quickly torn away as they sat down to wait, fiddling around in his bag to look for any snacks that might have survived the first flight.

"..Why do you call it that?" Dipper spoke up after a minute or two of silence. He glanced over at Bill, who appeared to be preoccupied with something else, and repeated his question at a higher volume.

"Why do I call what what?" Bill questioned absently, seemingly having gotten over his disappointment in his lack of snacks. He was now transfixed by watching an old man in the row across from theirs attempt to work his tablet, giggling to himself at the increasingly befuddled looks the man gave his device.

"You.." Dipper bit his lip, figuring that it was probably stupid to even ask. But the question had been nagging at him for a while now, and he desperately desired an answer. "...You said you were excited to get home. Do you... really think of my house as home?"

Bill finally glanced away from his mildly mean-spirited pastime, tilting his head quizzically. He was quiet for a few moments as he formulated a sufficient response. "...More of a home than the Nightmare Realm, I can tell you that much. And it's where you live, so.. my levels of fondness towards it are sufficiently higher than they are regarding any other location on your gross planet." Bill averted his eye when he was finished speaking, attempting to carefully school his face into an expression of neutrality.

Dipper flushed at the obvious insinuation, trying to shake the thought from his head. "But what about Gravity Falls? Aren't you... linked to it, or something? In the Journal-"

"Kid," Bill interrupted, "the only things in that journal that are true are the accounts of my incredible fashion sense. And probably some other less important nonsense. Anyway, I'm not 'linked' to Gravity Falls. Sixer probably had an inflated ego about summoning me there, and made some false connections between the town's weirdness and my own supernatural origins. How could I have manipulated human society as a whole if I was tethered to that rotten cesspool of a town?"

Dipper bit his lip to stifle his defense of the town he once held so close to his heart, knowing it wouldn't matter. It wasn't like he was ever going back there, after all. Where the thought of never seeing Gravity Falls might have previously carved right through him, there was only a dull ache and a heavy flood of acceptance. After all, how could he ever dare to show his face there again, after being responsible for Mabel's death? It was better if he faded into obscurity. It'd be better if they forgot about him. It'd be a heartbreaking miracle if Stan and Ford managed to forget about him, and left to mourn the loss of their grandniece amidst the ocean's breadth. A manic thought latched onto him like a moray, and he had no illusions of snapping its jaw. Maybe there _was_ a way he could be forgotten.

Before Dipper could share his revelation with Bill, there was a call over the intercom, announcing the boarding of their flight. He was summarily yanked up by the wrist, stumbling into Bill's side as the demon grinned at him. "C'mon, mister millionaire. You've got some wealth to reap."

The flight itself was long and uncomfortable, as most flights tended to be; as far as Dipper was concerned, at least. He managed to sleep fitfully for most of the journey, eyes straining to stay open even as they protested staying closed. Bill's shoulder, buffered by a thin pillow, managed to be more comfortable than the stiff, poorly cushioned chair he sat in. Refreshments would have been ignored entirely in favor of slumber, were it not for Bill forcing water down his throat at every available opportunity. Little conversation passed between them, the demon strangely mindful of his desire to doze. It was almost peaceful, in a way.

Before long they were touching down just south of Providence, Rhode Island, Dipper being shaken awake as they began the final descent. They both stumbled out of the flight with bags in tow, Dipper sore and exhausted and Bill stiff and agitated. His chipper demeanor resurfaced sometime after retrieving their luggage, which Bill casually hefted on his own. He beamed at the grateful little quirk of lips Pine Tree sent his way, and chatted animatedly their entire way to the parking complex. They loaded their luggage into Dipper's trunk, Bill slipping behind the wheel despite Dipper's halfhearted protests. In spite of that, he was honestly relieved that he wouldn't be forced to drive when his eyes wouldn't even focus properly. Yawns slipped freely from him the entire ride home, despite it lasting a scarce twenty minutes. He blinked blearily as they pulled into his front driveway, fumbling to open his door and stumble out of the car.

"I think I'm gonna head inside and sleep," Dipper mumbled around yet another yawn, the words slow and languid. "Can you get the luggage in on your own?" He desperately hoped that would be the case, but resigned himself to pitching in if it was requested.

"Nah, I've got it covered," Bill chirped over the sound of him unzipping his backpack. "You just head inside and I'll take everything in. Don't trip on your way up the stairs!"

"I can still walk, thank you," Dipper shot back, vague amusement coloring his exhausted tone of voice. He fidgeted with the lock for a moment before he managed to fit the key in, hearing the satisfying clunk of tumblers as he swung the door inwards. He dragged his feet into the house, which was completely dark. The overcast skies allowed little light through, but Dipper didn't bother with trying for a light switch. He could navigate just fine. He looked up, and squinted at a strange shape in the dark. It almost looked like a figure, outlined by... a very familiar coat. "..Grunkle Ford?" he whispered, voice laden with bewilderment.

"My apologies, Dipper," the voice responded smoothly as the taller figure of Stanford Pines turned towards him. Their eyes met in the dark for all of a moment before Ford thrust out a hand, flinging some sort of silvery dust through the air. Dipper managed half a step backwards in his shock before the cloud engulfed him, and he found the world swimming with darkness. His eyes fluttered shut, and he hit the floor with a dull thud.

Bill hummed a cheery tune as he slammed the trunk shut, one hand gently settling the bags of luggage on the concrete driveway before he sidled around the car. He ambled casually through the open door of the house, one eye blazing as it sought out the figure of Sixer, slowly rising from where it had been crouched over Pine Tree's body. "Well, what a pleasant surprise. NOT! You're looking particularly decrepit, Sixer. Age finally catching up to you?" Bill grinned with his full array of teeth, rocking on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back.

Ford didn't bother rising to the bait, voice cool and collected as he responded. One hand inched towards his side. "I see you've found a form hideous enough to reveal your true nature, Cipher. How fitting."

Bill crowed with delight, a cackle slipping through his pointed teeth. "Ohh, so you can see through my glamour, huh? You always were a perceptive little brainiac. Unlucky for you, I was always better at seeing ahead." Bill whipped one hand from behind his back, clutching the grip of Xiuhcoatl and pointing it right between Sixer's eyes. The man's hand stilled from where it was reaching towards whatever weapon he had stowed on him. "Thought I'd be slow on the uptake, Sixer? You know that's not how I operate. I knew you'd have some ridiculous plot to catch me off guard when I got back. You know, it's a good thing you've got my Pine Tree out cold.." Bill trailed off, his friendly baring of teeth twisting into a nightmarish sneer. "He won't have to watch me blow your insides all over the room."

"You're all talk, Cipher," Ford replied steadfastly, though his eyes were trained warily on the barrel of the revolver. "If you truly care about Dipper, you wouldn't dare kill me. It'd break his trust in you permanently."

Bil burst out into raucous bellows of laughter, loud enough that it would have woken Pine Tree under normal circumstances. "You're really that naive, Sixer? You seem to forget who I am. I may not have access to cosmic knowledge, but I still know YOU. I know EVERYTHING about you. The way you think, and plan, and rationalize. You think you'll subdue me, and find some ancient secret that can banish me forever. You think I've twisted Pine Tree's head all around, and you'll be able to undo the damage. You think you can outsmart me. You think you know all my tricks. What you don't seem to realize.. IS THAT I SEE  **EVERYTHING** -"

"Take a look at this, freak." Bill whirled around at inhuman speeds, shock spreading across his face moments before splintering pain exploded in the side of his head. His vision swam with disorientation, colors blurring and blending as he staggered and swayed, before collapsing to the floor. He struggled to see upwards, something warm trickling from his temple as he swirled blood and loose teeth around in his mouth. He made out the profile of Stanley Pines, a smug smirk on his mug and an aluminum bat in his hands. Dark blotches swam like specters in his vision, and he couldn't blink them away. Unconsciousness dug its twisted fingers into his mind, struggling to drag him into darkness. The last thing he heard was the voice he hated more than any other, reverberating with arcane power.

"Bestiam ex astra, eieci te de rebus humanis!" The words howled in his ears as every extremity grew numb, his twitching fingers growing lax and his face falling slack. "Sed veni mittam te ad carcerem mentis!"

Bill screamed soundlessly as darkness consumed him. 


	45. In Waiting

Dipper Pines woke with a strangled gasp in his bed. Trembling hands patted the sheets and mattress beneath him, finding them familiarly worn and comfortably springy, respectively. It was entirely familiar, but provided no comfort. The heavy comforter was drained of color, a dark, lifeless gray instead of navy blue. He was in the Mindscape. Rational thought weakly attempted to combat blind panic, his hitching breaths a sure sign of the victor. "Bill?" he croaked desperately, stumbling out of his bed in search of the demon. Considering the limited floor space of his Mindscape, there weren't many places for Bill to be hiding. He was here alone. But how was that even possible?

Ford. Dipper started with remembrance, the blurred memory of what had occurred in reality flashing through his head. Ford had.. done something. Used some kind of powder to put him to sleep. Was it something to do with the Mindscape? Did it force him in here? But why would Ford do that? Unless-

An ear piercing shriek cut in from nowhere, echoing around the vast nothing of the Mindscape and ringing painfully in Dipper's ears. He winced and clasped his palms over his ears, eyes widening as the form of Bill slowly oozed into existence. And continued oozing. Swathes of darkness exploded out of his torso, writhing and expanding into hard angles and bristled spines. It took on the texture of oil and chitin as Bill convulsed violently. His face was a single eye set above a vortex of gnarled teeth, screams leaking unfiltered from his maw. A dozen grasping hands tore and clawed at the open air, fingers twisting into geometric shapes and raw flesh hanging in strips. His screams heightened into an almost electronic wail, his form twisting and growing unstably.

"Bill! Bill, it's me!" Dipper called pleadingly, horror swimming through him even as a thousand threads of desperation pulled his muscles taut. The twisted form of Bill Cipher twitched at the sound of his words, the rapid growth slowing to a halt. Dipper couldn't make heads or tails of what exactly it was, his head and eyes aching just from looking at it. But he didn't dare tear his gaze away, struggling to focus on the network of right angles and pouring sludge and chitin plates. "Bill," he said a little more softly, as the endless swarm of screams tapered off. "It's me. It's Pine Tree."

" ** _PINE TREE_** ," the distorted voice of Bill Cipher repeated, almost incredulously. The tower of demon flesh swayed and loomed, a vaguely humanoid head swiveling downwards. One searing eye, home to a slitted pupil, stared at Dipper with the intensity of the cosmos.

"Yeah," Dipper breathed, trembling under the weight of that gaze. "Yeah, it's me. Just... calm down, okay? Please?" He wasn't entirely sure what to say; what did you do to calm a demonic meltdown? "Is it alright if we talk? Without you being eldritch and absolutely terrifying?"

There was a brief pause as everything stilled into utter motionless, before the roiling mass of unhinged demon slowly, carefully retracted. Limbs and geometry slithered back into tendrils of dripping darkness, which sank into the rich fabric of a slowly forming suit. Before long, a four limbed, two eyed demon was standing in the middle of Dipper's Mindscape, expression twisted with distress. The left side of his face was horribly bruised and dripping with blood, the skin split along his temple and the corner of his eye, and his lower lip busted wide open.

"Oh my god," Dipper breathed, feeling a violent pulse of concern rush through him, as well as an unsettling chill at the sight of an injured Bill Cipher. He'd never once seen the demon presented as anything less than impeccable, at least in the Mindscape. He approached on shaking legs, having to stand on his toes to properly cup the demon's injured face. "What happened?"

"Your uncles happened, obviously," Bill spat, somewhat literally as blood dribbled down his chin. "Ford distracted me while his idiot brother bludgeoned me upside the head." He gently touched his brow, a hiss escaping him. He was apparently in no mood to find his busted face amusing.

"But why would they _do_ that?" Dipper stressed. "What's the point of knocking us out if we'll just wake up eventually?" He had a sudden vision of waking up strapped to a metal table, and shuddered anxiously. Ford wouldn't do that, right? Worst case scenario, Stan wouldn't _let_ him do that. Doing it to Bill, on the other hand...

"I don't KNOW," Bill bit out, sinking down to rest on the edge of Dipper's bed. "I... Ford said something, before I was out. I just can't remember what. Stupid cranial trauma.." He clutched at his head with one hand, as if he could squeeze the memory out of his skull.

Dipper settled on the bed next to Bill, feet scuffing at the floor in uncertainty. He stared at Bill's damaged face, before a sudden thought occured to him. "Why are you injured in the Mindscape? Can't you just... make it go away?"

Bill was silent for a moment, before a grimace settled over his face in lieu of his wounds. He rubbed experimentally at his falsely repaired temple, frown only deepening. "Yeah, well, I was pretty preoccupied. Being assaulted by those two idiots is a little **INFURIATING** ," Bill snarled the final word through his teeth, frown twisting into a hateful scowl.

Where Dipper might normally have attempted to defend his Grunkles, he merely sat in silence instead. There was a volatile cocktail of confusion, anger, and betrayal swirling inside him, neatly topped with a dash of self-loathing. He should've known it wouldn't be simple. He should've been prepared for them to pull something. Instead, he'd walked right into a completely obvious trap, and Bill had been injured because of it. He gave in to his sudden surge of impulses, reaching out to take a brooding face that twitched with fury between his hands. A chaotically rolling pupil zeroed in on him, both eyes widening from their previously narrowed glare. "..I'm sorry I didn't do anything to stop them. I should've known they'd do something stupid."

"Not your fault, Pine Tree," Bill muttered, deciding to humor the kid for the moment, and allowed his face to remain pliant. "I already knew they'd try to 'capture' me, or whatever their current plan is. I'm sure Sixer has some ridiculously convoluted plot to seal me away in a pocket dimension that he can banish to negative space, or something equally ridiculous and improbable. He'd need another rift to create one of those bad boys, and even then his little old man brain is probably too feeble to even figure it out."

Dipper frowned at the slight on Ford's intelligence, but let it slide. He could read the faint nervousness in the tension of Bill's jaw, and imagined that the demon was wondering if such a thing could ever happen. Well, Dipper certainly refused to allow it. "I won't let him banish you anywhere," he whispered, releasing the demon's face in favor of tentatively embracing him. He hoped to exude the same strange sense of comfort that Bill provided him, a smile pulling at his face when he felt Bill marginally relax. "And I definitely won't let Stan hit you again. We'll just talk rationally, and... if I have to, I'll make them leave myself."

Bill slowly, carefully draped his arms around the fragile wisp of human consciousness that held him, and heaved a sigh. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I doubt it'll be that easy. Fordsie is stubborn to a fault, and Fez... well, you've seen firsthand how far he'll go if he thinks his family needs him. Old fool wasted thirty years bringing back a brother that didn't even appreciate him. Sometimes I wonder if I'M really the crazy one around here."

"I don't think there's any doubt to be had there," Dipper mumbled into the fabric of Bill's suit, hoping to lighten the bleak mood a little. Jokes had become few and far between for him, but he was sure Bill would at least appreciate the attempt. The tired, breathy giggle that breezed across the top of his head was a sure sign of the demon's lacking enthusiasm, but at least he'd gotten a positive reaction. "Can you get out of the Mindscape on your own? Like how you normally do?"

"Good question," Bill mused, raising a hand and snapping his fingers. Instead of warping out of existence his silhouette flickered like a television with poor reception, and a yowl of pain tore out of his throat. He met Pine Tree's wide eyed stare with one of his own, before he managed to shape it into something more confident. "Guess that blow to the head is keeping me out of commission for now, huh? No problem. This body is pretty durable, so I'm sure there won't be any lasting damage."

"H-how do you know for sure?" Dipper all but whimpered, thoughts of concussions and comas and permanent brain damage screaming through his head. He tightened his grip as if holding Bill together himself, the action allowing him some small comfort. He couldn't even remember the moment when physical closeness to Bill had become something he yearned for instead of something he feared. It was such a drastic change in such a short time, though the moments since Mabel's death had felt as though they stretched infinitely. He just knew that he didn't want it to end. Bill's embrace helped pull all his loose parts together into some semblance of a complete human being. It was certainly more than he could do when utilizing only his own power.

"Because I designed this thing myself. Sure, there's a few surface irregularities, but the internal systems all work great, save for a few minor hiccups. This meat tube is still mostly human, after all." He saw the worry still glinting in Pine Tree's eyes, and stroked a gentle hand along his jawline. "Hey, I'm going to be just fine. You really think some old geezer with a bat can take down Bill Cipher?"

Dipper wasn't particularly convinced that Stan _couldn't_ do permanent damage to Bill's body, but nodded anyway to appease the demon. "Yeah, I guess. I just worry about you," he admitted, feeling ridiculous even as he said it. What reason was there to worry about Bill? He clearly knew what he was doing, even without cosmic knowledge. He was intelligent and charming and intimidating, the trifecta of attributes needed to get his way.

"Pretty sure I'M the one that needs to be worrying, as foreign of a concept as that is." Bill absently stroked a digit across Pine Tree's jaw, trying to reorganize his thoughts now that he was past his little... emotional hiccup. He'd been angry before, certainly, but never to that extent. It had never been so bad that he'd started losing control of his own avatar in the Mindscape. He'd also never been unable to LEAVE the Mindscape of his own will. For now, he'd attribute it to his head injury, but there was still a curling mass of SOMETHING in his gut that made him feel uneasy. What was it that Ford has said? "You should probably wake up soon," Bill said in a bid to distract himself from unpleasant thoughts. "Maybe you can sweet talk that old nerd and captain fisticuffs into NOT knocking us out again."

"Wait, but what happens if I leave before you? Will my Mindscape still be... around?" Dipper bit his lip in indecision, unsure of what would happen. Bill had always been the first one out of his Mindscape, either waking Dipper up himself or letting him slip back into REM sleep on his own. Now that he thought about it.. did venturing into the Mindscape count as conscious brain activity? Did it even allow him a restful sleep? Considering he was always hovering just on the edge of exhaustion, it was hard to tell. He yelped as he noticed his hand begining to grow translucent, a sure sign that he was waking up. He hastily flicked his gaze up to Bill's face, only to find the demon grinning at him in a manner that was surely meant to be reassuring. It didn't appear to be in the least bit, but Dipper appreciated the intent behind it.

"Don't worry, waking up just means your Mindscape isn't accessible from the outside. I can still hang around in it. But either way, I'll probably head over to my own, get some spring cleaning done." Bill clasped a transparent hand in his own, even as it grew intangible. "Just be sure to give Fordsie and Fez a stern talking to, okay? This is usually the part where I'd remind you to buy gold, but I don't think that's an issue anymore." He winked and laughed his signature cackle, and saw Pine Tree's lips move the moment before he was gone.

Oh well, it couldn't have been anything too important, right? And if it was, Bill would hear about it when he woke up. But for the moment... he glanced around Dipper's empty Mindscape, the colorless surroundings suddenly seeming even more leeched of pigment than usual. Such a sad little mental projection... he frowned as he remembered that the majority of the damage was his own doing. He approached the journals laid out alongside his own representation, noticing the thick layer of dust that had formed on them. The covers were warped with age, and the edges of loose pages drooped over the side. Journal 3 seemed in slightly better shape than the other two, and Bill rationalized that it must have been Dipper's representation of Gravity Falls itself. He snapped his fingers, producing one of those nifty hand dusters he'd seen on television. Humans sure had some ridiculous inventions. He wiped down the cover, frowning when it remained exactly as tattered and caked in dust and grime as before. He hadn't really expected it to work, but it still caused a brief sting, knowing he couldn't do anything to revitalize Pine Tree's Mindscape directly.

Bill paused as his triangular pupil rolled completely backwards, staring through the back of his head at another representation. Without Pine Tree here, he could look all he wanted, but wouldn't that be... (INXWJXUJHYKZQ) He shook his head, turning towards the corner as his eye swiveled back around. He kneeled down in front of an open wooden chest, filled with dozens of neatly folded sweaters. Though they were colorless, he immediately knew what the one on top was supposed to look like. "Shooting Star.." he mumbled to himself, reaching out to stroke the fabric. It was pristine, more-so than anything barring Bill's own representation.

His hand fell away moments before coming in actual contact with the soft wool, and he let out a huff as he stood abruptly. Bill didn't have time for this. He ignored the fact that he technically DID have time for it, considering his forced unconsciousness. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, transporting to his own Mindsca-... Bill frowned. He stared at his fingers, locked in a post snapping position. He hadn't moved. He snapped his fingers once more, a shower of blue sparks erupting from the moment of friction. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Bill's eye twitched, and his breath welled in his chest, before erupting into a thunderous roar.

" ** _WHAT_** -"

 


	46. Conflict

 

Dipper woke with a panicked gasp and the taste of unspoken words on his tongue, shooting up into a sitting position as his eyes frantically flickered around the room. His bedroom. He was in bed. Stan and Ford must have moved him, he presumed, as soon as his panicked breaths had ceased echoing around the room. He wasn't injured. He wasn't restrained, save for the sheets tangled around his legs. He could.. he'd just talk calmly and rationally with his Grunkles, and everything would get better. He attempted to convince himself of this as he left the bedroom on uncooperative legs, which shook underneath him. He could hear voices from downstairs, carrying up the staircase when he stood at the top. He leaned against the wall, waiting a moment to decipher the speech.

"-isable him permanently. He wouldn't be able to get back to the Nightmare Realm until his vessel expired naturally, giving us more time to figure out-"

"You don't seem to realize that we don't have a lifetime to figure this out, never mind your mutilation fantasies." The word mutilation had Dipper's heart skipping in his chest, and he began slowly making his way down the stairs, careful not to draw attention to himself.

There was the dull thud of something slamming against his kitchen counter, and Ford's voice rose in volume. "What do you _suggest_ we do, Stanley? I am simply trying to formulate a temporary solution, until we discover a more permanent one."

There was a disbelieving snort. "And here I thought _I_ was supposed to be the irrational one. Look, Sixer... what you're suggesting... it sounds like something _he'd_ do. Usually I'm all for fighting fire with fire, but we've got Dipper to think about. The kid's already a mess, we can't make it any worse-"

"A non. Issue," Ford stressed. "We have a solution for that as well, as soon as I can tune it to the right frequency-"

"Which will take how long, genius? I know you've never really been the empathetic type, but he's our grand nephew! Waiting for your 'solution' is only gonna prolong his suffering. Besides, how do you even know that just wiping-" Stan's voice cut off as Dipper stumbled down the final few steps, hand slapping against the wall as he tried to catch himself. He glanced up with wide, fearful eyes as he came into view of the kitchen, where Stan and Ford were both staring back at him from. "Hey, kid," Stan greeted tentatively. "How are.. ah, how ya feeli-"

"Ah, Dipper. Good, you're awake," Ford interrupted shamelessly. "Perhaps you might provide us with some insight as to Bill's motivations, and potential weaknesses you may have discovered?" Stan groaned aloud and pressed his hands against his face, dislodging his glasses.

"..." Dipper stared at Ford with absolute, all consuming incredulity. "..You want me to help you," he repeated, almost unable to process the words. And then came the anger. A plume of magma that scorched his insides, erupting through his diaphragm and out of his mouth. "You break into my house, _knock_ me _unconscious_ , beat Bill over the head with a _bat_ , and now you want my _help_?! I was-I'd hoped that we could talk, like actual people, but apparently that's just not an option with you, is it?."

Ford blinked in bewilderment, unsure of what to say in response. That certainly wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Stan sighed explosively and stepped forward, hands open in a placating gesture. "Kid, you gotta understand that we're just tryin' to look out for ya. Whatever Cipher's done to you-"

"Is in the past," Dipper stated firmly. "Things change, Grunkle Stan. He's not... he isn't what you think he is. Not anymore. He feels real emotions: regret, remorse, compassion-"

"All lies," Ford dismissed with a determined finality. "You need to realize that Bill Cipher is a master of deceit. He will do or say anything to further his agenda. Everything he has told you is a _lie_. He has no more concern for you than he would an insect. When he has no more use for you, he will toss you aside and-"

"You don't _know_ that!" Dipper retorted, shaking with anger. It was an anger that remained untainted by guilt, or self loathing. The purity of the fire that burned under his skin made him bolder, more confident in his words. "I know what he did to you, Ford. I know he spent years manipulating you, but he didn't have _real_ feelings then. He doesn't have a goal, anymore. He can't start the apocalypse, he hasn't tried to make any deals, and he hasn't hurt anyone-"

Stan cut in, his face twisted with grief and rage and disbelief. "He killed your _sister_! Mabel is dead because of that demon, and you're _defending_ him! I don't know what he's told you, but you need to get your head on straight, kid. There is _no_ forgiving something like that."

Dipper clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until the skin split. Tears welled in his eyes, and his face was set in a pained scowl. "You think I don't _realize_ that she's dead? You think I don't _hate_ myself every single second because I couldn't save her? Because I didn't even _try_ to save her? Grunkle Stan... she's dead because of me," he choked out. "And there's nothing we can do about it. There's no magic solution to bring her back. No heroic journey we can go on. S-she's gone forever."

Ford averted his eyes, jaw set tightly to keep his face neutral. He said nothing. Stan's hostile expression fell away, and only sorrow remained. "Dipper.. it isn't your fault, kid. I promise. You can't blame yourself for what that demon did. And.. and I know we can't bring her back, but we have to get rid of Bill so he can't do that to anyone ever again."

"Indeed," Ford spoke up, after a moment of silence. "Cipher's misdeeds stretch back to the beginning of human civilization, and likely further beyond. He is an unchanging evil, and whatever good he might have done in these last few months doesn't undo his previous actions. And it is as you said.. once his body expires, he will return to the Nightmare Realm, and no longer will his malice be constrained by whatever human emotions he may or may not be experiencing. That is why we _need_ your help. To be rid of him once and for all, for the good of the universe."

Dipper was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "Bill told me you said something before he fell unconscious," he addressed Ford directly, dodging the previous topic. "What did you say?"

Stan and Ford both shared a look. "It was a spell, created in Atlantis. It is designed to trap Bill in a single person's Mindscape, and remove him from whatever body he's inhabited. Being as this is a vessel created specifically for him, it will be left in a sort of stasis until it is reinhabited. That's why I had to.. induce unconsciousness in you," Ford worded carefully.

Where Dipper's heart had previously thundered with anger, it now froze to a standstill. "Y-you.. you can undo it, right? There's a counterspell, isn't there?" He paled at the stony look on Ford's face, and Stan's averted eyes. "It isn't permanent or anything, right?"

"That's not information we can give you," Stan stated to the empty air, unable to look at the hurt painted on his nephew's face. "You're better off just letting us handle things. Just go back to your room while we figure things out, if you aren't gonna help."

"..I want you out of my house," Dipper whispered, voice trembling with fury and distress. He spoke again before either of them could interrupt. "I want you _out_. Go back to Gravity Falls, or go sailing somewhere. I don't care. But if you don't leave in the next five minutes, I'm calling the police to have you arrested for breaking and entering, and assault and battery."

"Kid, you can't be serious-" Stan began, before a blazing glare was turned on him.

"I said GET OUT!" Dipper screamed, voice cracking but expression unwavering. He felt as though his chest were collapsing in on itself, rotten organs compressing under the weight of crumbling bones. He could barely breathe through his tumultuous tsunami of emotion, drowning him from the inside out.

"..You're making a very big mistake, Dipper." Ford didn't meet his eyes, instead turning stiffly to began gathering his equipment from the kitchen table. "Come along, Stanley," he stated in monotone, when his brother didn't move. He stuffed his research papers and scrolls into his backpack, along with his laptop. He shouldered it with a grunt, not looking back as he exited through the front door.

Stanely Pines attempted to stare down his nephew, expression pleading. "Dipper, please, you gotta believe that we just wanna help you-"

"Three minutes, Stan." Dipper didn't look him directly in the eyes. He focused on his breathing, trying to keep it steady. Failing that, he attempted to simply breathe in the first place. He didn't look up as Stan hesitantly stepped towards the front door, turning one last look back on his nephew before he closed the door behind him. Dipper's facade crumpled moments later, tears welling in his eyes and spilling over nigh instantaneously. He walked on shaking legs towards the couch, catching sight of Bill's arm hanging limply over the side. He choked on his sobs, collapsing to his knees before he even reached the couch. He shuffled forwards, an ugly sob ripping out of him at the sight of the demon's injuries. He rested his head against a chest that rose and fell with gentle breaths. His own chest heaved and shuddered violently. He struggled to climb up onto the couch itself in his hysteria, vision blurred with saline and throat sore from painful sobs. He collapsed against the body beneath him, hands fisted in the fabric of a yellow sweater stained with spots of blood.

Dipper closed his eyes, and waited to be consumed by darkness. 

 


	47. Solutions

 And darkness did come. As minutes spilled into hours, the shafts of light eeking in through his closed blinds slowly faded away. His crying had long since ceased, as whatever energy he'd had to partake in the action was completely drained. Unfortunately, emotional exhaustion and physical exhaustion did not lead to the same endgame, and thus Dipper found himself wide awake for hours upon hours. He didn't know what time it was, having not looked at his phone when he'd awoken. The lack of clocks did not aid in this dilemma, as minor as it might have been. Thoughts flitted endlessly throughout his head, and he left them untouched. There was nothing to think about. All he needed to do was get in the Mindscape.

After nearly twelve hours of remaining entirely motionless, Dipper's consciousness began fading away. He attempted to focus on venturing into his Mindscape, only to blearily realize that he had no idea what that entailed. He simply had to hope that Bill's presence within it was enough to tether him to it.

When the world seeped away behind his eyelids and strokes of grey streaked across the nothing, he was sure he had made it. He slowly cracked open his eyes to find himself on the floor of his Mindscape, hardwood pressing uncomfortably against his stomach. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, wondering vaguely if the planks were even capable of giving him splinters. Not important. He needed to see Bill. He sat up, eyes scanning the room shallowly before zeroing in on a corner that was dramatically darker than the rest of the reasonably lit Mindscape. The shadows appeared a roiling thunderhead, billowing and curling in on themselves as tendrils of darkness snapped and cracked like bolts of lightning. "Bill?" Dipper whispered, unsure if it were safe to approach. There was no way the demon hadn't figured out that he was.. trapped, and he was certainly going to be volatile.

A golden spotlight flickered to life within the cloud of darkness, and Dipper could feel it gaze through him, right down to his bones. "Pine Tree," a familiar voice responded, echoing and distorted. Dipper couldn't read the inflection in it. He slowly approached the darkened corner, coming to a halt at (what he assumed was) a safe distance. A haze rolled off the concentrated darkness in waves, lapping at the floor.

Dipper swallowed a lump of razors, failing to concentrate enough to will away the pain in his throat. "A-are you alright? What's.. going on?" He reflexively flinched backwards as an eight fingered hand emerged from the dark, falling to dig its nails into the floor. It visibly strained, pulling forth the rest of the arm it was attached to, before another hand joined it. Bill surfaced from the darkness as if it were a pool of tar, thick strands of it tugging and clinging to his clothing. "What is all of that?" Dipper questioned, rising to grab Bill's hands and gently tug him forwards. The concentrated darkness began trailing up into the air, plumes of it dissolving into wisps, carried away on a nonexistent breeze.

"Nightmare residue," Bill explained faintly. His voice lacked any and all of the anger Dipper had been expecting to hear. "I gathered as much of it as I could from your Mindscape in an attempt to dispose of it. I... I thought this might be a nightmare that I could dispel. Guess I was wrong." He coughed out a laugh, dry and crackling. He seemed completely unaware of the concern forming on Dipper's face.

"Y..you know that you're stuck, then." It wasn't a question. Dipper attempted to keep the despair from overwhelming him, but it was quite the task. One he had no energy to undertake. "We.. we'll get you out, I promise."

"Don't make a promise you know you can't keep, Pine Tree." Bill extracted his hands from Pine Tree's grip, and they hung limply around his calves. "So," he began with a poor attempt at false brightness, "what'd the old men have to say? They tell you to stay away from big bad Bill, and be back home by eleven?"

Dipper averted his gaze, and allowed Bill's humor to fall flat. "They wanted me to help banish you, so.. I told them to leave. But I did get some information. Ford apparently used some sort of... Atlantean spell, designed to trap you in a single person's Mindscape. They didn't tell me how long it would last, or if it has a counterspell."

Bill laughed mirthlessly, the sound more biting than anything. "Figures. That old geezer doesn't trust anyone. Probably not even his own brother. I'd say I hope that one day he'll realize that he has to share himself with other people, but I'd much rather he die bitter and alone." Bill ignored the conflicting emotions on Pine Tree's face. "Figures he'd find that spell, too. Should have expected that the Atlanteans would have a failsafe in their chitzy city. Not that it helped them much at the bottom of the ocean."

"So you don't know what the spell is?" Dipper questioned, something like disappointment curling up inside of him. He'd desperately hoped that Bill would have an easy solution, that they'd be able to fix things without any trouble. He thought he'd left such naivety behind a long time ago.

"If I knew the spell, do you really think I'd still be in here?" Bill snapped in aggravation, which quickly deflated into guilt when Pine Tree shied away from him. "No," he began, softer, "I don't know what spell he used. Presumably it's a very powerful one, considering I can't just force my way out. Sixer was always very conductive when it came to channeling magic." A sort of twisted pride formed on Bill's face, colored with malice.

"..Is there really nothing we can do?" Dipper murmured, a molten core of lead blazing in the petrified hollow of his chest. He felt a powerful urge to lean into Bill and let the hurt bleed out of him, but the demon's defensive posture dissuaded him. If Bill wanted contact, he'd make it known.

"I really don't know, Pine Tree," Bill sighed, settling on the edge of the bed. He pulled his human down beside him, keeping a firm hold on a twitching hand even after the fact. "Sixer is a tough nut to crack. I doubt you'd be able to force the information out of him. Fez, on the other hand... Well, it's his loyalty to you versus his loyalty to his twin, and I think we both know how that'd turn out." Bill looked startled by the choked noise that escaped Pine Tree, turning an errant pupil on him. "Hey, I didn't mean to imply-"

"No, you're right," Dipper intoned miserably. He clasped an eight fingered hand with both of his own, and attempted to reign in his irregular breaths. He didn't need to work himself up again. It wasn't worth the energy. "Stan, he's-I know he can't trust me the way he used to. At best, he thinks I'm brainwashed. At worst.. You're right, he isn't a lead worth chasing. But we'll figure something out. You're the master of the mind, after all." Dipper's tentative smile fell when he earned a bitter snort.

"Yeah, 'Master of the Mind' with only one mind to work with. I'm not what I used to be, kid. I.." Bill turned his gaze downwards, the rest of him drooping along with it. "I don't have all the answers anymore." There was a long moment of silence, before Bill felt warm fingers wrap around his own. He glanced up, expression morose, and stared into the depths of Dipper's fragile smile.

"..You've got me, at least." Dipper's voice was a delicate whisper, spoken as if he were afraid it might shatter at any higher a volume. Honestly, he felt as though he were already falling apart. But he needed to be there to reassure Bill. He could lose himself in reality, and pull the pieces back together in his mind. Not a healthy solution by any means, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

"Yeah," Bill responded, equally as soft. "Yeah, I've got you, Pine Tree." He pulled the human into his arms, knees digging uncomfortably into his thighs as he rested a tangled head of hair against his chest. He sighed as familiar arms linked behind his back, feeling something warm blossom in his chest, in spite of the cold muck that had settled within. "I'll have you as long as you'll let me, Pine Tree. And.. you'll have me, too. You know, there's one phrase I've never once said, in a trillion years of existence. But... I think-" His arms were empty. He glanced down, finding no sign that Pine Tree had even been there at all. His arms fell limp, and he muttered three simple little words, ones torn apart into a jumble of syllables that had no meaning to anyone but him.

Dipper slipped into consciousness in much the same manner he might slip on a patch of ice. He experienced a moment of weightlessness, before his head cracked painfully against something. He whined in pain, clutching at his head as he attempted to blink his eyes open. Awake. He was awake. He shot up in a panic, nearly slamming his head into the coffee table a second time. Morning light pooled in puddles on the floor, just bright enough to illuminate his surroundings, yet dim enough to maintain a dreary atmosphere. He sobbed out a breath as he realized he'd just left Bill there all alone, and he needed to get _back_ -

Dipper sucked in a breath, attempting to calm himself. He just... he had to think about this rationally. He still needed to take care of his physical needs. He wouldn't be any use to Bill if he died. But he couldn't just wait around for hours and hours to fall back asleep. A dark thought erupted in the back of his mind, and he clung to it greedily. The perfect solution.

He stumbled into the kitchen, legs sliding stiffly underneath him like sticks of lead. He retrieved something from his fridge (fruit maybe?) and bit into it, citric juices dribbling down his chin. He vaguely realized he wasn't supposed to eat the rind. Dipper picked at it with his fingernails, struggling to remove the skin with his bare hands. It eventually came away in chunks, and he ate the exposed fruit flesh as quickly as his stomach would allow. He left chunks of rind on the counter, uncaring. He could clean it up another time. He sucked the juices off his fingers as he reached for a glass with his free hand, shoving it against the water dispenser in the fridge. He realized after several moments that water was dripping steadily onto the floor, and adjusted the angle of his glass to actually collect the water. He messily drained it once water was spilling over the sides, managing to soak the collar of his shirt in his haste.

Finished with his rehydration and nutrition, he staggered to the stairs, legs shaking with each forceful step he took. He fumbled for the lightswitch of his bathroom upon entering it, and wasted no time in digging through his medicine cabinet. He tossed aside anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and anti-psychotics, fingers stilling on a virtually untouched bottle of prescription sleeping aids. He shakily poured a handful onto the counter, squinting at the label to read the directions. Three pills an hour before bed, do not exceed maximum of four- An hour was too long. He scooped up a little less than a dozen, leaning his head into the sink basin to catch a mouthful of water. He swallowed the entire handful, gagging on the bitter taste they left on his tongue and in his throat. Not important. He screwed the cap on and clutched it in his shaking fingers, ignoring the water dripping from the ends of his hair as he trudged back downstairs.

He paused in front of the body laying prone on his couch, studying the sharp angles and striking curves of vaguely human physiology. A body normally filled to the brim with bombast and activity. He crawled over to lie against a familiar chest, enduring an eternity captured in half an hour before his eyes fell closed, his head growing fuzzy and muddled.

Dipper Pines drifted off to sleep with a bottle of pills in his hand.


	48. Daze

Stanley Pines paced back and forth on the limited floor space available in his cheap hotel room, one hand clenching in mid air, and the other running through what remained of his hair. "All I'm sayin' is that maybe we were a bit hasty. We should head back and check up on the kid, just to make sure he ain't doin' anything..." Stan winced, and waved a hand vaguely, "y'know, _bad_."

"As eloquent as ever, Stanley," Ford replied dryly, folding articles of clothing that he stacked inside of his modest suitcase. "Dipper has made it very clear that we are not welcome, and he is entitled to his poor decisions. Besides, we will be of much greater aid to him once we return to Gravity Falls, where I have access to greater stores of knowledge. Once we find a way to banish Bill-"

"And here comes mister one-track," Stan muttered sourly. "How long would we even _be_ in Gravity Falls? A month? Dipper could be-" he cut himself off, attempting to keep tumultuous emotion off of his face. "All I'm tryin' to say, is that he's probably not in a good place mentally. And hey, maybe forty years ago it was the norm to toss those kinda people in a padded room and dump pills down their throats, but it ain't like that anymore. He _needs_ his family.. even if he doesn't want us," Stan finished more quietly.

"Any damage Cipher has wrought can be undone, but not if we don't return to Gravity Falls," Ford stressed as patiently as he could manage. "I very much doubt our continued refusal to cast a counterspell will in any way improve his psychological state. I'd also rather avoid a criminal record." A bitter frown formed on his face at the thought that someone he'd thought intelligent and rational had threatened to have him arrested over a dream demon.

"But we don't know what'll _happen_ before then, Sixer! There might not be... he might not.." Stan swallowed a brick of concrete, turning away to fish Ford's handmade cellular phone out of his bag. "Look, let's just stay a few more days. I'll call him, give him a number he can reach us by, and if he doesn't call in... four days, I'll go check up on him. If he still don't want us around, we'll leave for Gravity Falls, and help him when we're done there. Simple as that."

"...Acceptable," Ford sighed, settling on the edge of the bed and pulling his laptop from his backpack. "I suppose if we're going to be here a while longer, we should at least investigate a few loose ends."

"Loose ends?" Stan questioned, before he received a pre-recorded message. His heart ached at the sound of Dipper's voice, so much more vibrant and alive than he'd sounded the other day. "Hey, kid. It's Stan. I uh.. I just wanted to call to let you know we're gonna stay a few more days, and tell you that if anything happens, or if you just need to talk about somethin'... we're here, okay? Just call this number," Stan rattled off the number to Ford's cell, even though it likely wasn't necessary, "and one of us will pick up. If you don't call, I'll be there in four days to check up on ya. Or sooner, if you want us over. Though uh... I'd understand if you didn't. ...Love ya, kid." Stan ended the message, heaving a sigh as if he'd just run a hundred meter sprint. "So, loose ends, what've we got?"

Ford thought of a revolver buried in the bottom of his bag, one that thrummed with hostile arcane energies. "Well," He began with an almost noticeable amount of enthusiasm, "There have been a few odd events in the past few months. A store clerk was found dead in a mall boutique, seemingly from unknown causes. No autopsy information has been revealed. A local fair had caught on fire, again with no obvious cause or culprit. A local pool was indefinitely quarantined by the federal government. No statement has been issued on the matter. Separated from one another, these events would be unusual, but fairly innocuous. However, they all occurred in the last three months. And while normally I wouldn't attribute such things to the supernatural, their proximity to two powerful supernatural entities cannot be overlooked. Dipper's accounts of Bill Cipher's actions made it very clear that he was virtually tethered to the demon's side for that duration of time. And the Sleep Hunter cannot be our culprit, for it is almost without question deceased."

Stan appeared mildly lost, as he usually did after one of his twin's monologues. "So.. what do you think it is? You're sayin' it can't be either of the two obvious culprits, so..?"

"Bill Cipher and the Sleep Hunter are not direct causes, no." Ford adjusted his glasses, expression darkening. "But where evil goes, the devil is not far behind."

The Mindscape appeared before Dipper in blotches and swirls of grey scale. For reasons he didn't quite understand, everything felt... skewed; off kilter. Like the mental projection hadn't quite formed properly. Or like his perception of it was muddled somehow. He appeared nestled on his bed, sheets cold and disheveled. Rather than warm them with his presence, they seemed to leech the heat from his skin. He crawled out from under them, settling on his feet and almost toppling over as he stood. Don't think about it. Just find Bill.

When he finally looked up to inspect his Mindscape, he found it had acquired an... addition. Long stretches of triangular marble tiles lined what would have been empty space, the superfluous floor space home to chaotic scatterings of pieces of architecture. Sweeping archways and solid walls marked the skeleton of a room. Pillars of a thousand different shapes stretched towards the infinite sky, which was painted with swathes of swirling nebulae and twinkling galaxies. Strangely enough, this mural of the cosmos did not exist above the space that Dipper's physical representations occupied.

He stepped hesitantly out onto the tile, his steps clacking and echoing despite his bare feet. "Bill? Where are you?" His speech came a little slurred, his tongue not fully cooperating. Contrary to his footsteps, Dipper's voice was muffled, as if vibrating in a padded room. When no response came, he set off into what appeared to be an entrance hall of sorts. There was a twisting staircase that rose to a second floor, which was home to a pair of intricately carved wooden doors. On the ground floor, two hallways flanked the stairs, each stretching off farther than Dipper could make out.

The simplest answer was usually the correct one, right? He ascended the staircase, practically pulling himself upwards via handrail for all the good his legs were doing. His sense of balance was as crooked as the Mindscape around him, but he pushed the thought from his head. He staggered towards the double doors, grasping one of the decorative handles (triangular, engraved with the Eye of Providence) and tentatively pushing inwards.

The moment the door was opened, he was overcome with sound. Not a powerful, booming sound, or a glaring, abrasive sound; it was a soft, lilting melody. The gentle notes of a piano lovingly caressed swam through the still air, accompanied by a voice. It was a voice that Dipper knew well; one that had raged and raved and cackled and gloated and soothed, now raised in song.

Bill was singing, he realized dimly. Singing something in Spanish that he couldn't understand. He could make out the word for 'love' and nothing else. He crept further into the room, finding a warmly lit, well furnished sitting room. An overstuffed couch of wet, pulsing flesh sat next to an armchair of steel geometry and colorful, downy feathers, both positioned in front of a crackling fireplace. A low coffee table, outfitted with hooves in place of feet, was home to a neat stack of cooking magazines, as well as a glass dish filled with teeth. A bookshelf lined the back wall, home to numerous hardcovers and paperbacks. And at the far end of the room was Bill Cipher himself, carefully tapping out the notes to his song on a skeletal piano. It appeared carved entirely from bones, and Dipper caught a glance of vibrating tendons underneath the raised lid.

It was a macabre picture that Dipper never wanted to look away from. He watched for a precious few moments as malformed fingers danced over ivory keys, looking more fluid and human than Dipper had ever seen them. But eventually Bill's crooning tapered to a halt, and he pressed out the final few notes of his song. He sat, head bowed, hands curled in his lap. "..I know you're there, Pine Tree."

Dipper jolted in surprise, color rising sluggishly to his face. "Sorry, I... I didn't want to interrupt." He allowed his eyes to slip shut for a moment, before forcing them back open. The sight of the living couch in his peripheral vision was making him feel a little nauseous. "You... have a nice singing voice. Better than I expected it to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bill screeched in a purposefully abrasive manner. He laughed at the wince on Dipper's face, and slid off his bench in front of the piano. "I didn't expect you back so soon. Guess I'm still not used to this 'telling time via biological functionings' thing."

"Ah.." Dipper felt a sudden wash of trepidation, but swallowed it down. "No, it's only been about an hour. I uh, took some pills, so I could get back sooner. To make sure you were okay." He could almost feel the nosedive that Bill's mood took, a shrieking plummet from top to bottom.

"What do you mean, you took some pills?" Bill stalked across the room, the heels of his shoes clacking loudly despite the gorilla skin rug underfoot. Dipper made it half a step backwards before a hand was grasping at his jaw, craning his head upwards so he had no choice but to stare into burning gold and chaotic geometry. "What did you take? How MANY did you take?"

"J-just some prescription sleep aids," Dipper stuttered, feeling nervous despite the lack of a lie. "I didn't take enough to do any harm. Just enough to help me fall back asleep." That was... somewhat more of a lie. He wasn't sure how many sleeping pills it would take to cause actual damage, but surely it was less than the (nine, ten?) amount that he'd taken. He'd just needed to get back as quickly as possible. "..I really didn't want to leave you," he whispered, significantly more sincere. The severe look on Bill's face softened, and he released his grip on Pine Tree's jaw in favor of lightly stroking it.

"Well, I certainly appreciate the company! This place," Bill gestured widely at their surroundings, "is a little empty with just me in it. Even this handsome fella doesn't liven the place up very much." He flapped his hand at a massive portrait of his triangular self, hung over the fireplace. The dapper triangle appeared to be lounging on a chaise with a glass of champagne in one hand, and was covered in rose petals. "But," Bill chimed, after a long moment of admiring himself, "now that you're back, we can figure out how I can get out of this dump! Uh, no offense."

"None taken," Dipper murmured, more than aware of the dilapidated state of his Mindscape. But it wasn't his Mindscape that mattered at the moment; it was getting Bill _out_ of it. "I was... pretty hasty in trying to get back here. I should've at least read through the Journal entries on the Mindscape."

"Ah, there wouldn't be anything useful in those old things anyway," Bill dismissed, steering himself and Pine Tree over to the couch. At the alarmed look his human gave the pulsating furniture, Bill instead settled them in the feathered armchair. "He only recorded things about Gravity Falls in those, and Atlantis is preeeetty far removed from all of that nonsense." He snapped his fingers when he noticed Pine Tree's drifting attention, the kid shaking his head like he'd just snapped out of a daze.

"Sorry," Dipper apologized sheepishly. "So, without the Journals... what are we supposed to do? Where do we start?" Dipper attempted to wrangle his focus and direct it entirely on Bill, but found his head a little hazy, his thoughts drifting forth more languidly than usual.

"Well, normally we'd start with the spell itself. Study the words and intonations to figure out a counterspell." Bill scratched at the corner of his lips, which were pulled into a frown. "Unfortunately, we don't actually know the original spell. All we have to go on is what it was used to achieve; namely, removing me from my vessel and trapping me in your Mindscape."

"Why would the Atlanteans even create a spell like that in the first place?" Dipper questioned. He scooted backwards to rest almost entirely on Bill's lap, the end of one leg hanging over open air. "Did you... 'do business' with them a lot?"

"Oh, you'd better believe it!" Rather than preening, Bill appeared almost brooding. "Greedy little 'holier-than-thou's, the lot of 'em. Thought they could wrangle me into submission, harness my power. Their high horses sure didn't save them from drowning. But to accomplish that, I had to do quite a lot of possession. Orchestrating the fall of Atlantis was one of my bigger jobs, and it took a lot of finagling to get right. But I guess they were crafty enough to survive even down there, at least for a while. Probably had that spell in the works right around when I tanked that sucker. Unfortunately my knowledge on Atlantean is a little rusty, AKA nonexistent at the moment, so the closest approximation I've got is Latin. You're good at Latin, right? Better than you used to be, at least. ...Pine Tree?" Bill glanced down at the sound of a soft snore, finding Pine Tree dead asleep against his chest. He sighed and carded a hand through tangled locks, slowly undoing knots with his fingers. "Probably need the rest anyway. We'll figure things out another time."

"Not like I'm going anywhere, right?" 


	49. Another

Disorientation struck like a sucker punch, and Dipper was left reeling the moment his eyes twitched open. He was curled in a chair, one that was sinfully soft and strangely prickly. Something thin and firm (quills?) dug into his skin through the fabric of his shirt, and he shifted restlessly. His stomach felt as though it were rebelling against all of existence, roiling and burning with acids, leaving Dipper dreadfully queasy. He attempted to utter words, but managed only a dehydrated cough. He turned his gaze, bleary and unfocused, and found the only thing that mattered.

Bill was sat on the floor near the exit to his little study, books piled in a semicircle around him. He flipped through the pages of numerous texts with twitches of his fingers, willing them to turn. There was an agitated tension in his shoulders, coiled and creaking. He appeared moments from setting the books ablaze. "Bill?" Dipper croaked, and the demon's head snapped up. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep," Bill explained in a clipped tone, slapping a tome closed with an air of finality. "I decided to start researching the spell that's trapping me here, but unfortunately, I can only conjure books containing information I already know." He idly flicked one of them into the fire, flames licking harmlessly at the leatherbound text. He scowled in irritation, snapping his fingers and engulfing the book in icy blue fire. It was quickly and unceremoniously devoured by the blaze. "As you might have guessed, it isn't going so well."

Dipper allowed a soft frown to touch his lips, crawling out of the chair (upholstered entirely out of feathers) and toppled to his knees the moment he attempted to balance on both feet. He ignored the curious look that his blunder earned, rising back to his feet and plodding uncertainly towards the crescent barrier of books. "I guess it wouldn't help much, reviewing things you already know. Unless there's something you forgot."

"My memory is impeccable. I made sure of it. Which is exactly what makes this so aggravating. That's why it's good you're awake; you can help me brainstorm!" Bill flashed a sickly grin, one that made Dipper's skin crawl in a strangely pleasant manner. "So, got any fresh ideas, Pine Tree?"

Dipper bit his lip, attempting to focus beyond the foggy haze that had encapsulated his thoughts. "You... do you know any nullifying spells? Ones designed to cancel out others without a specific counterspell?"

"Of course I do," Bill replied defensively, despite the lack of accusation. He appeared almost offended at the nonexistent implication that he DIDN'T know spells of that nature. "Unfortunately, I doubt they'd work on a spell of this complexity; nullifiers are effective only on more general spells."

Dipper frowned more severely, before sluggish realization brightened his face. "You said something about Latin, right? Can't we just.. use phrases to invent a counterspell? That's what you had in mind, isn't it?" Dipper's logical processes, caked with rust and grime, slowly clinked and clunked together inside his skull. He _had_ to figure this out. There was no other way.

"A good idea in theory, but words have no power of their own. The more complex a spell, the more arcane power has to be imbued in the incantation. I imagine it took the bulk of Atlantis' arcanists to imbue this thing." Bill almost sounded smug, clearly bolstering his ego with the knowledge of it taking an entire sect of wizards to bind him. "We gotta think outside the box, Pine Tree. I was hoping we could sift through Latin phrases until we cobbled together the proper counterspell, but you don't exactly have enough time to do that."

"I'd like to get you out of here as soon as possible," Dipper muttered, unable to keep a pathetic whine out of his voice. He simply couldn't fathom a life without Bill anymore. He was the only one left. Dipper _needed_ him. He stared in thought at his folded hands, jolting when he realized they were beginning to fade. A screaming panic echoed throughout him, he needed more _time_ , he couldn't leave yet he had to stay he had to help Bill there was nothing left without him-

He shot up with a choked utterance of the demon's name, tears tracking down his face. He slid off the couch and the body resting upon it, his breaths short and shallow. He needed more pills. He scrambled to snatch the bottle from where it had rolled under the couch, ignoring the gnaw of nausea in the pit of his stomach. He just needed to drink something, and he'd feel better. He groped for his phone atop the coffee table to check the time, despite how irrelevant it was at the moment. He found instead a new message.

Not important. Dipper deleted it without another thought, staggering and swaying into the kitchen in search of hydration. His mouth felt as though it were filled with dust, and tasted strongly of the chalky pills he'd downed sixteen hours ago. He rectified this by drinking straight from the sink, uncaring of the government created nanites that would monitor his bodily processes. Mabel could call him crazy all she wanted, but she.. she...

She was dead and it didn't matter anymore. He choked down a ragged breath, drinking further to quench the scorching ache in his chest. He downed another half dozen pills, thankful that the bottle was so large. He'd hopefully have enough to free Bill from his imprisonment. He glanced thoughtfully at the bottle, before shaking out another handful of tablets and swallowing those as well. Saliva made them sticky and difficult to swallow, leading to him coughing a few back up onto the counter. He growled in frustration, gathering another mouthful of tap water before he managed to ingest them without incident.

Now he could go back and help. Everything would be okay. Everything would get better. Dipper only made it halfway onto the couch before he was losing consciousness.

Stanley Pines groaned as he climbed down from the driver's seat of a rented SUV, his knees creaking in protest when he hopped to the concrete underfoot. "This is the place, Sixer?" He glanced around the abandoned lot, before he zeroed in on bright yellow police tape. That was definitely a familiar sight.

"Indeed. I would not have directed us here if it wasn't." Ford climbed out moments later, much more carefully than his twin. He remained mindful of the delicate equipment in his backpack, tightening the straps as he approached the ruined remains of the fairgrounds. "We'll infiltrate the premises, and inspect any structures that still stand for signs of supernatural activity." Ford dug through the inner pockets of his coat, removing a boxy device that Stan couldn't make heads or tails of. Probably some sort of scanner, like on those terrible ghost hunting shows. Although he had slightly more faith in this one actually working.

"Glad to see mister literal has come out to play," Stan muttered, one hand stuffed in his pocket as fingertips gently brushed against a set of brass knuckles. He doubted they'd get any use, but it was better to be safe than sorry. "So what _exactly_ are we lookin' for, in here? And how do we know it wasn't just an accident, or an arsonist that caused it?"

"An excellent question," Ford praised, in his best 'I'm an intelligent and condescending professor' voice. "An accident is implausible due to the nature of the fire," he explained as they crossed the police line and entered the fairgrounds. "A single tent, or stand, or what-have-you catching fire would not have been enough to set the entire fair ablaze, even on a particularly windy day. Numerous attractions were far enough away from other structures that no fire could naturally progress to them. As to the question of arson, well..." Ford gestured at the skeletal remains of a ferris wheel, the carriages having long since been removed. "The fire burned with enough heat and intensity to weaken steel support struts, toppling the majority of the rides. Such a feat would certainly require a higher grade of igniting agent than mere kerosene."

"And it wouldn't make much sense for someone _with_ that grade of fuel to be lightin' a fair on fire, right?" Stan tacked on, following his brother's line of logic. "But, wait, if it burned straight through everything, how's there gonna be anything left for us to investigate?" His eyes followed the rigid point of Ford's finger, directing him straight towards a completely untouched structure, left amidst the carnage. "Oh. I swear I need my prescription updated."

"Something we can worry about another time," Ford dismissed, already making his way towards the structure. He briefly looked over paintings of skeletons and ghosts, peeled by the heat of the fire, before he forced his way in through the rusted front door. Stan's footsteps mirrored behind his own, and he retrieved a pair of LED headlamps from his bag. He tossed one at Stanley, and heard the brief fumbling of his twin attempting to not drop it. "Keep an eye out for anything even slightly suspicious. If you think you've found something, alert me immediately. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stan waved him off, before strapping on the headlamp. It provided a stark, cold circle of illumination when he flicked it on, and he suddenly felt marginally better about investigating an abandoned haunted house. The oppressive swathes of darkness dissolved with every twitch of his head, and he managed to crack a smirk upon revealing a plastic skeleton. "What sort of suspicious things are we talkin' about, here?"

Silence; all consuming and eternally present. It was an entity all its own, fingers of ceaseless anti-noise clawing at the open air, coloring the inky darkness with malice. Swirls of black tested the limits of the headlamp's illumination, and Stan Pines was suddenly unnerved by the leering, grinning skeleton in front of him. "Uh.. Sixer?" He whipped around, and saw nothing but hallway. "Oh, great, one of these." Despite the sardonicism in his tone, there was a strange tremor that he couldn't keep from warbling his words. He slipped on his brass knuckles without bothering to speak again. He set off down the hallway, ignoring the shadowed visages of strangely realistic zombies and vampires and ghosts.

The hallway stretched and twisted like taffy, leading Stan down a winding route that had his agitation and trepidation spiking. "Okay, this ain't funny anymore. If somethin' 'spooky' is gonna happen, then it better happen fast, cuz' I ain't got all day." His voice carried far beyond his general vicinity, kept endlessly aloft by the claustrophobic path. It continued echoing long beyond the point it should have tapered off, and Stan felt a sudden chill up his spine as it warped with each repetition. It almost sounded like..

Laughter. Something was laughing with the scraps of his voice, creating an eerie, manufactured noise that prompted nerves to curl in his gut. "Yeah, very funny. Why don't you come out so I can introduce you to my fist, you-"

Footsteps, wet and plodding, sounded from far in the distance. Stan immediately tensed, hands raising slowly in a position that had been ingrained in his head for nearly sixty years. And then, from the dark, it came. A formless, amorphous silhouette. As it entered the beam of his headlamp, he began making out what few details it possessed. Whatever it was made of shifted and bubbled of its own accord, a sooty grey color run through with cracks of molten red. Somehow, it hadn't given off any light of its own. A pair of appendages jutted out of the torso, ending in three fingered hands that he doubted could hold anything. It had a bulbous protrusion that likely served as a head, marked by a pair of dark slits for eyes and an upturned slash of a smile. " ~~NoT the BOY... no.. someONE eLsE. pinEs. PInES. PINES~~."

Stan was wracked with chills as it spoke his surname, fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. "Yeah, Pines. And what exactly are you, buddy? What's your angle? I doubt you trapped me in here for a chat."

" ~~CiiIPhEeER~~ ," the creature hissed in a voice like sizzling embers. It slowly oozed across the concrete floor, somehow not leaving a trail despite its fluidity. Stan took a reflexive step backwards, fists raised defensively before what it said registered.

"Cipher? I'm not lucky enough for you to just want me to solve a code, am I?" Stan grit his teeth, ignoring the cold sparks of (fear couldn't be) apprehension that fizzled in his guts. This thing hadn't done anything particularly threatening, yet. And if it tried anything, he'd knock its block off. Simple as that. "What about him? You got beef with him, or somethin'?"

" ~~TrAPPED vulnERable WeAK bURn HiM OUT MaStER of NoNE fUEL fOR the FIRE~~." Stan took another shaking step backwards, eyes narrowed at the gibbering mass of molten sludge. He realized suddenly that its mouth didn't move when it spoke.

"That's great and all, but what's it got to do with me?" Just keep it talking, wait for Ford, he'll be able to do some science nonsense to take care of this thing. Something bitter settled in his chest at the thought of having to rely on his brother to save him, but that wasn't anything to worry about right now.

" ~~THe BOy PiNeS yoU pINEs CoNnEcTIOn~~." The odor of burning paper and plastic poured off the.. whatever it was, and it made Stan's eyes water.

"The boy.. you mean-" he bit down before he could actually utter Dipper's name, wanting to keep this thing as far away from his nephew as possible. It was bad enough that he was ensnared by one terrible supernatural entity already. "Whatever you want with him, you'd better forget it. Go crawl back into whatever pit you came from."

The form of the creature trembled and quaked, rippling waves of fluid undulating beneath the film that kept it contained in a mostly stable form. That painted on grin split apart- "The day of reckoning approaches," a dry, ragged voice murmured into Stan's ear the moment the creature vanished from sight. He whirled around with a strangled yell, and his fist passed straight through empty air.

"Stanley, there you are!" Ford's voice called from the end of the hallway. Stan's eyes were wide and his chest rattled with each breath. He saw his brother turn the corner a moment later, eyes narrowed in concern and annoyance. "I swear, I turn my back for one moment, and you're galavanting off somewhere out of sight. Oh well, no matter. Have you found anything? Any signs of supernatural activity?"

"Yeah," Stan replied faintly, "you could say that." He forced his breathing to stabilize, slipping off his knuckles and placing them back in his pocket. "We, uh.."

Ford raised an eyebrow when his twin trailed off, and grit his teeth in impatience. "Yes, Stanley? What is it?" Stan rubbed at his brow, which he only now realized had beaded with cold sweat.

"I uh, don't think we'll be leaving town for a while."


	50. Master of the Mind

Dipper was choking. His eyes bulged and burned with tears as consciousness slammed into him, leaving him reeling and sputtering with wet coughs. He turned on his side, leaning his head over the edge of his bed and heaving onto the floor. Something watery spattered on the hardwood, the taste of stomach acid and bitter pills only enhancing Dipper's gut wrenching nausea. His mouth and nose burned and dripped as he hacked up whatever was in his stomach, which amounted to nothing more than water and acid. It was grey as gruel on equally colorless wood, a sure sign that he'd at least made it into the Mindscape.

He coughed and struggled for breath once his convulsions had ceased, his stomach gnawingly empty but no longer attempting to force itself out of his esophagus. Not important not important he needed _Bill_. He was.. he'd... he couldn't remember what had happened in his most recent removal from the Mindscape. Presumably he'd taken more pills and fallen asleep, but everything felt so.. fuzzy. It was as if cashmere and cotton filled his head, concealing his thoughts and memories.

It didn't matter, he decided. As long as he was here, nothing mattered but helping Bill. He stumbled out of bed, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor as he took unsteady steps towards Bill's addition. He wondered vaguely if Bill's own Mindscape looked anything like that; grandiose and abstract and self-congratulatory. He glanced back at the sorry state of his own Mindscape, frowning when he realized it appeared.. blurry, and incomplete. Everything had a fuzzy quality to it, blurring the edges and making the contents of the room amorphous and nearly indistinguishable from one another. That probably _was_ something to worry about, but it could certainly wait until after Bill was free.

His bare feet clicked against marble tiles as Dipper approached the staircase he'd ascended before, gait uneven and lurching. His head buzzed with an unfamiliar ache, and he squinted in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the pain. If his Mindscape was blurry and indistinct, Bill's own mental constructs were sharply defined and stood out in stark relief from one another. Every edge was marked by a neat black line, and it bizarrely reminded Dipper of a cartoon. But beyond that, everything felt impossibly real; even more so than reality. Maybe that had something to do with the strength of Bill's mind. The more mental power you had, the more crisp and distinct your Mindscape was. Dipper shook the thought of what that meant about his own mental faculties.

The staircase loomed over him before long, and the mere sight of it had his knees quaking and his head swimming with unbalance. But he climbed them regardless, stopping frequently to close his eyes and attempt to reorient himself. This proved a terrible idea, for the brief interruption of visual feedback only proved to worsen his dizziness. He stumbled up the steps, which were thankfully large enough to give him some room for error, and breathed a sigh of relief when he met solid flooring.

The doors to Bill's study were wide open, but there was no occupant in sight. Dipper felt his breath catch in sudden panic, reminded suddenly of his terror as a child, whenever he'd been separated from his parents in a store. "Bill?!" he called out, the sound mangled by the very air itself. It felt as though his words barely carried beyond his own mouth, and his rotten heart pushed blood through his vessels so hard that he could almost feel them engorging. He broke into a cough as his next syllable cracked before it could be truly voiced, his mouth and throat so dry that he was surprised sand wasn't pouring from between his lips. Or blood, he reflected more morbidly.

If his voice refused to be carried, then he'd simply have to carry himself. He groaned as he turned back to the stairs, before an idea occurred to him. He attempted to will himself to the bottom of the stairs, but something was.. wrong. He couldn't concentrate hard enough to make his wishes a reality. His thoughts were too sluggish and muddled. Resigned to make it down one way or another, he wrapped his hands and forearms around the handrail in a death grip, and slowly eased himself down each step.

After an eternity of careful descent, his feet clapped against solid marble, and he heaved a weary sigh. He wasn't sure why his energy was so low. He'd eaten, hadn't he? Surely he hadn't gone without food. Reminded of his lacking stomach contents, he bit his lip and conceded to the fact that he must not have actually eaten. That was alright. He could just eat when he awoke once more, right? Less than convinced, he set off for the hallway to the left of the stairs, peering down at the endless rows of doors that lined the walls. How was he even supposed to find the one Bill was in before his time in the Mindscape ran out? He called out again, his voice strangled and paltry. It wasn't worth trying again.

Half fueled by fear and half driven by determination, Dipper set off down the hallway, glancing at each door he passed. They were all neatly labeled with golden plaques, although some of them were.. unusual and disturbing were good descriptors. 'Subjugation of Sumerians' 'Bodily Processes of Antilocapra Americana' 'TEETH' 'That one time in the Everglades don't pretend you don't know the one'; the list continued on in much the same manner as he trawled through the hallway. Were these.. sections of Bill's mind? He was surprised that, as strange as everything was, the different categories were surprisingly orderly for the demon. But considering that Bill wasn't (usually) a raving lunatic, there had to be _some_ sort of coherence to his mental processes.

He ground to a halt in front of a door simply labeled with a decal of a stylized pine tree. Before he even knew what was happening he was grasping for the handle, opening the door to a dimly lit room painted with thick, sticky, dripping fluids. The tang of copper hung heavy in the air, and Dipper gagged on the stench. He almost turned around and left, but raw curiosity had him continuing further into the room. A lantern suspended from the ceiling burst into brilliant illumination, revealing beneath it a pristine bed of crisp white sheets and perfectly shaped pillows.

And upon it lay Pine Tree. Dipper stifled a gasp when he saw the grey scale representation of himself, laid out on the bed in a pose reminiscent of someone having their portrait painted. His doppelganger was.. beautiful was the only word he could use as a descriptor. His skin was flawless and shimmered like morning dew, every inch of it revealed under the light. Dipper flushed at the nudity, even though it was technically himself. But it just looked so.. _unlike_ him. Pine Tree was an angel with full cheeks and neatly coiffed curls, a slim but healthy torso and a benevolent smile on soft lips, even in slumber. He was elegant and delicate, almost as if crafted from porcelain. He was nothing like the half starved ghoul that stared down at him with dark, sunken eyes. Dipper sniffled, an unbecoming, disgusting sound, and failed to turn away from the sight. Was this what Bill saw, when he looked at his Pine Tree? Or... was this just what Bill wanted him to be? What he wasn't. What he hadn't been. What he never _could_ be. Dipper's hand shook as he reached out to touch a perfectly sculpted cheek, and he could have sworn he saw long, gorgeous eyelashes flutter-

"You shouldn't be in here." Dipper jerked his hand back as if it had been skewered, whirling around and nearly slipping on the blood that pooled on the floor. Stood in the doorway was Bill, his head just shy of brushing the top of the frame. One burning pupil rested on Dipper, and a socket bearing the Eye of Providence swiveled to gaze beyond him, at the flawless thing lying on its pedestal. "Don't you know it's rude to go snooping around in other people's private rooms? I guess etiquette classes don't exactly cover proper behavior in the Mindscape."

"I-I'm sorry, I was just- I was looking for you, and I couldn't find you and I was really worried, but.. but I found this room, and... I had to see inside of it." Dipper bit his lip until it hurt, carefully scanning the swirl of emotion on Bill's face. He didn't seem livid, which was good, but there was something sorrowful lurking underneath the cheer he'd messily plastered on. "I'm really sorry," he tacked on pathetically.

"Ah, don't worry about it! Just don't **EVER** go in one of these rooms without my express permission, got it?" Bill flashed his teeth in a grin that could puncture the fabric of space and time, gesturing for Pine Tree to come towards him. He watched in idle amusement as the human guiltily shuffled in his direction, grimacing at the sticky blood that coated the soles of his feet. Bill had a sudden impulse to see that red on OTHER parts of his Pine Tree, but begrudgingly shoved the thought away. It could wait until after he was freed.

"Y-yeah, I got it," Dipper whispered, feeling sufficiently chastised. The howling questions in his head momentarily tore free of their cloying bonds, and he was already blurting one out before he could stop himself. "What does that represent? The.. the me on the bed. Am I... is that what you want me to be?" Vulnerability shone in his eyes and bled through his voice, and he felt more exposed than when his organs had been strewn about.

"Pine Tree.." Bill used both hands to grasp a downturned face, his insides aching at the sight of melancholy and despair. He gently rubbed protruding cheekbones and the impression of teeth through cheeks. "YOU are what I want. Why would I want something perfect when your flaws and imperfections are what make you so desireable?" He watched a shudder run through a pliant body, tightening his grip as Pine Tree's legs attempted to betray him. "Every tear, every crack, every little missing piece.. they make you what you are. They make you what I WANT, more than ANYTHING. Something broken can still be a masterpiece, little Pine Tree."

Dipper swallowed something hot and barbed, his infected core fluttering like a half dead bird at Bill's heartfelt statements. He clutched the sickly thin wrists of the hands that held him aloft, fingers weak and trembling. A sudden rush of clarity swept through him, instilling in him a need to speak that couldn't be halted. Words bubbled up and out, unable to be stopped even if he had wanted to. "I think I know how to get you out of the Mindscape."

And then Dipper was waking up. He lurched up and over the couch, spilling his stomach contents on the floor in a trickling stream of water and stomach acids. It felt much more visceral in reality, tears blurring his vision and trailing down his cheeks as he vomited up what little he'd ingested in the past.. however long he'd been asleep. He endured a few moments of dry heaving before his stomach settled, just enough to halt the vomiting process. He groped for his phone, eyes unfocused as he squinted at a message from his bank, confirming the deposit of ten million USD in his account. He checked the time, vaguely noting the twelve hours that had passed. Not long enough.

He gingerly stepped over the pool of vomit, resigned to cleaning it later. He staggered unsteadily into the kitchen, feeling infinitely more muddled and light headed than he had in the Mindscape. He spent a few moments trying to remember why he'd come into the kitchen in the first place, before his bone dry mouth reminded him. He fumbled for a glass from the cabinet, jamming it into the water dispenser and filling it to the brim. He drank it as slowly as he could manage, spitting out a mouthful in the sink to rid himself of the taste of his digestive juices. He drank the rest of the glass over the course of several minutes, until it was almost completely empty. He filled it back up and set it on the counter, reaching into his fridge to find something to quiet the yawning hunger in his stomach. He mechanically put together a sandwich with no condiments, dry bread sticking to the inside of his mouth and sharp cheddar making him queasy. Ham tasted rubbery and overly salty on his sensitive tastebuds, but he forced down at least half of it before discarding the rest on the island. He could dispose of it later.

He swiped up the bottle of pills from its position next to the sink, grasping it in a trembling hand as he did the same to the glass of water. Some of it sloshed over the brim as he stumbled back into the living room, but he didn't much care at the moment. He set both items on the coffee table, fumbling to remove the cap of the pill bottle and spilling a couple in the process. He hastily scooped them up, stuffing them into his mouth and swallowing a mouthful of water. He retched as his body rejected the horrid flavor, but he struggled and concentrated, managing to force it down. He took another few just to be safe, already feeling fuzzy and sluggish. He attempted to place the empty glass on the table, but it tipped over and shattered on the tile floor. He'd take care of it later. He peered blearily at Bill's face, frowning at the blood still crusted along the side of his head. Dipper wiped clumsily at it with his damp fingers, staining them a faint red but accomplishing little else. He laid against a familiar chest, darkness swallowing him in mere moments.

Dipper was already falling out of his bed before his eyes were open. When they finally did expose themselves to his surroundings, he didn't even recognize them. Everything ran in streaks and rivulets, like a monochrome watercolor. Not important not _important_ he had to find Bill, had to-

"Pine Tree,  **what did you DO**?!" Bill's booming voice snarled in his ear, spindly arms jerking him up and off of the floor. He screeched at the bleary, unfocused look his noise garnered, and began violently shaking the body in his grasp. Pine Tree's head jerked back and forth bonelessly, before he snapped back into awareness.

"Bill you-reality is a manifestation of the mind, you have to manifest yourself in reality you're the Master of the Mind you can do it you _have_ to do it _please_!" Dipper babbled as quickly as he could manage, tongue fumbling and slurring syllables. He grasped feebly at Bill's shoulders, sheer desperation slashed across his face.

"Answer my QUESTION, PINE TREE! WHAT DID YOU DO?! What HAPPENED to your MINDSCAPE?" Bill shoved aside his Pine Tree's sputtered words for the moment, peering into his eyes to find them dilated and unfocused. "The pills," he hissed, his chest aflame and ribs constricting his vital organs. "How many did you TAKE?!!" Bill roared, panic toppling the anger in his voice.

"I-I.. I lost count," Dipper mumbled, the feverish glint in his eyes dulled into a smothered fire. "It doesn't matter, you can get _out_!"

"You'd better believe I'm going to get out," Bill screeched like a dying banshee. "I'm going to RIP YOU OPEN and pull those PILLS out MYSELF." He prepared for another shake, only to see a filmy layer form over Dipper's eyes. "DON'T YOU **DARE** -" Pine Tree slumped forwards like a ragdoll, his consciousness completely leaving him. And so too did Bill's veneer of rage leave him, and panic was left to wail freely in his head. His arms shook as he gently laid Pine Tree back in his bed, noting the deathly pallor of his skin and the incredibly slow rise and fall of his chest. "I'm getting out of here, and you'll be lucky if I don't kill you before you die," Bill lied miserably. He closed his eyes, and wreathed himself in crackling blue flames. They felt like ice against his skin. He desperately attempted to channel his thoughts into bending the rules of reality, but they flitted chaotically through his head. Pine Tree was dying he had to help there was no way this would work he'd never made it out of the Nightmare Realm before-

But he wasn't IN the Nightmare Realm, Bill realized suddenly. Something dark and triumphant lit up like napalm in his chest, and a high, bellowing cackle left his lips. He wasn't constrained by the Nightmare Realm. He, everything he'd put in the vessel, was now wholly and utterly contained in the Mindscape. His own domain. No one was the master of Bill Cipher. Nothing could restrain him, imprison him, overpower him.

Bill Cipher, Master of the Mind and All Seeing Eye, broke free from the constraints of reality.

 


	51. Tense

Stanley Pines drove as calmly as he could manage, quashing the part of his mind that implored him to break numerous traffic laws, just so he could get there faster. And so he could escape his brother, even for a short moment. "Ford, you don't seem to realize that it doesn't _matter_ what you think. We're going to check on him, and take him to Gravity Falls with us, and that's _final._ "

"And you," Ford spat from the back seat, where he unfortunately could not throttle his thick headed twin, "don't seem to realize that it would leave Bill Cipher unchecked. He's a greater threat than whatever creature you happened upon; the greatest in the universe. That spell cannot keep him contained forever. Once he weakens his bonds, he'll be free to reinhabit that corpse of a body and wreak his terrible evil."

"Then we'll take him _with_ us," Stan grit through his teeth, hands clenched on the steering wheel. "You can keep him in your torture dungeon forever for all I care-what matters right now is Dipper."

"...You think I don't care about him." It wasn't worded as a question. Ford presented his statement as a simple fact, inflection completely lacking in emotion. "You think I only care about a misguided desire for vengeance. I'm willing to do _everything_ I can to aid our nephew, but the threats to his safety have to be neutralized first. Then, and only then, can we help him emotionally and psychologically. Bill's continued presence will only undo our efforts to rectify the damage he's done."

"You sure got a funny way of showin' that you care," Stan muttered, but felt the fires of his anger burn out. "Whatever that thing we found is, do you think it'll really follow us all the way to Gravity Falls?"

"Likely so. If it tracked down Bill in a human shell, there is a strong possibility that it will be able to follow him again." Ford rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, trying to fight back waves of exhaustion. He'd stayed up longer than this before. One night of uninterrupted research wouldn't put him out of commission. "Take a left here," he said wearily.

"I know where I'm goin'," Stan grumbled as he heeded the directions. "Ain't like we've never been here before." He was silent for a long moment, before a question bubbled up. "So, this memory deleter thing-you're sure you can tune it right? I don't exactly wanna risk wipin' the kid's head clean."

"We'll start small," Ford reassured, "and only delete insignificant things at first, to be sure it is working as intended. Have a little more faith, will you? I've spent more than a few summers studying and adjusting the memory gun."

"It's not that I don't trust you, I... I'm just worried. What if it messes him up even more?" Stan clenched the steering wheel tighter, trying to force back the artificial calm that had enveloped him ever since he'd learned about Mabel's- "We're here," he stated unnecessarily, turning into the driveway and exiting the vehicle. "You don't have to come in," he spoke back into the vehicle, "but I'd appreciate if you did."

"I doubt he'd wish to speak with me at the moment," Ford replied steadily, though Stan could see the pain poorly hidden behind his mask of indifference. "Though I will be securing Bill's vessel once Dipper is convinced to come with us."

"Better hope for a miracle," Stan muttered under his breath before he turned to enter the house. He fit the key Dipper had given him years ago into the lock, stepping into the unlit house. "Dipper? You in here? You got my message, ri-" Three things became readily apparent to Stan Pines in a matter of moments. First was the puddle of vomit and broken glass on the floor, directly in front of the couch. Second was a tipped over medicinal bottle, spilling pills onto the coffee table. Third was his nephew lying on top of a confined demon, looking paler than death itself. Stan's eyes blew wide under his glasses, and he nearly tripped as he sprinted the short distance from the front door to the couch, heart throbbing in his throat. "Oh my god, oh my god, kid, you _didn't_ -" He fumbled for a pale wrist, pressing two fingers against the underside and praying under his breath. His heart settled only slightly when he felt a slow, steady pulse of blood under his fingers. "FORD, I need some HELP in here!" He called, his voice shaking.

Ford immediately read the panic in his brother's voice, fumbling to open the car door while simultaneously arming himself with a boxy laser pistol. He practically fell out of the open door, not bothering to shut it as he rushed into the house. He stopped dead in his tracks when he registered the sight that greeted him, all the color draining from his face. "..You were right," he whispered, sounding every bit the broken old man he pretended not to be. "You-we shouldn't have left him. We should have convinced him to come with us."

"Calm down, he's still alive," Stan attempted to reassure his twin, not sounding the least bit calm. "Just-call an ambulance, okay? He's going to be fine, I pro-" The dark living room lit up in a crackling explosion of arcane electricity. It formed like yellow ball lightning, snapping and pulsating in mid air. In a reality shuddering eruption, a form emerged from within. A four limbed triangle, bearing a top hat, a cane, and one bulging eye.

" **YOU**! GET **AWAY** FROM HIM!" bellowed the otherworldly voice of Bill Cipher. His sclera deepened into a blood red, pupil flashing with glimpses of black holes and dying stars. He streaked through the air like a missile, raising a hand with a thunderclap of power, stringing both Stan and Ford up by the neck with neon blue chains. "DON'T TOUCH HIM, DON'T EVEN **LOOK** AT HIM!"

Stan clawed at the chain wrapped around his neck, just loose enough to allow him quick, shallow breaths. "You idiot triangle, we're trying to _help_ him!" His concern for his nephew outweighed his fear, replacing it with burning determination. He wouldn't let another family member die at the hands of this monster. Not ever again.

"SHUT UP!" Bill howled in furious despair, bricks sliding rapidly beneath his cosmic glow. "He's going to be FINE! EVERYTHING'S GOING TO GET BETTER!" He sounded desperate, hysterical. The dream demon turned his attention away, the chains weakening and loosening without his full concentration. He turned Pine Tree over with a wave of his hand, reaching down to sink two intangible arms into his stomach. "You'll be better, I'll fix everything, you can't die you belong to ME," Bill muttered to himself, almost completely unaware of the twins in the same room as him.

"You're gonna kill him, you idiot!" Stan roared, fingers pinched and bruised from attempting to undo the chains keeping him suspended. He had to get down, he had to save his nephew from this monster-

"Bill. Listen to me," Ford spoke, in a smooth, even voice. He held onto the chains enough to keep them from strangling him, but didn't move beyond that. "Dipper is suffering from an overdose. If we don't get him professional medical attention, there's a chance he might slip into a coma, and never wake up. He will be without higher brain activity, and thus you won't even be able to visit him in his Mindscape; whatever might remain of it. He will be lost to you forever if you don't let us help him."

The Eye of Providence stared right through Stanford Pines, attempting to peer past that infuriating metal plate in his head. But Bill was weak without his full power, unable to bend reality to his liking. He glanced back at a barely breathing Pine Tree, and his will shattered. There was no other choice. "Okay, do it." He snapped his fingers, releasing the bonds he'd created and allowing both Stan and Ford to topple to the floor. "If you don't save him, I'll tear you both apart. I'll make you watch each other die, pulled apart into strips and broken bones."

"Your threats ain't helpin', triangle," Stan growled without the venom he desperately wished to inject his voice with. He rubbed at his throat before rushing to the couch, gently, shakily lifting his nephew into his arms. He was a perfectly manageable weight, barely enough to even impede Stan's movement. His heart sank as he noticed how horrifically skinny the kid really was; there was barely enough of him to form a full human being. He was vaguely aware of Bill sinking back into his own body, both eyes snapping open and a strangled gasp escaping an unused throat.

"I'll carry him," Bill demanded, rising from the couch in a fluid, threatening motion. He towered over Stan, snarling down at him with a legion of teeth exposed.

"You look like roadkill, you freak. Get that blood off your face, or we're leaving you here." Stan was already heading towards the car, thankful that Ford had left the back door open. He gently slid Dipper into a seat, strapping him in. His heart clenched at the way his head lolled to the side, but shook it from his head. He needed to focus. "Hurry up!" He bellowed, as Ford came jogging through the door. Hot on his heels was Bill Cipher, his face cleared of blood and stretched into a terrifying scowl. He slid into the backseat without a word, leaving Ford to take the passenger side. Stan caught sight of Bill tenderly stroking Dipper's cheek in the rearview mirror, and shuddered in anger.

Stan drove as far above the speed limit as he thought he could get away with, flashing the hazard lights of the rented vehicle to get traffic out of his way. The hospital was blessedly close, and he pulled into the lot without incident. What followed was a haze of shouting and gurneys and desperately explaining to stone faced doctors. Seeing Dipper hooked up to machines in preparation for his stomach to be pumped absolutely flooded Bill's fire, leaving him a drooping, miserable mess that plodded behind Stan and Ford, sinking into a seat in the waiting room. He ignored the twins entirely, attempting to distract himself by sweeping hair over his useless eye to avoid any stares. He didn't need questions; he needed results.

Hours passed in this manner, Ford scribbling in his journal to distract himself, while Stan read through an old issue of 'Foxy Grandpas' in a bid to do the same. Bill twitched incessantly in his seat, burning with the urge to see his Pine Tree, to know he was SAFE. When a doctor finally arrived to inform them of the state of Dipper's wellbeing, Bill leapt out of his seat and demanded to see him immediately. The doctor, a stern woman that appeared in her late thirties, informed him with narrowed eyes that only family was allowed to visit at the moment. Bill was moments from ripping her throat out with his teeth before Ford stepped up, explaining patiently that Bill was a cousin of Dipper's, come to visit him from out of town. Whatever she saw when she looked at the demon was apparently enough to convince her of a relation, for she acquiesced to allow them to visit. She barely got out the room number before Bill was already running down the hall.

He emerged into a room that smelled like death and medicinal fluids. The walls were painted a dour pea-green, and the floor was tiled with linoleum. There were four uncomfortable looking chairs placed against the far wall, and a stiff, white bed with a clutter of monitoring equipment set up on the right side. The beep of an EKG was the only sound, other than Bill's own shuddering breaths. He stared, wide eyed, at the almost insignificant form of Pine Tree, laid out in the hospital bed. He was paler than Bill had ever seen him, and looked fragile enough to snap from a weak breeze. This was not a corpse that Bill appreciated.

He dragged a chair over to the side of the bed, falling into it just as Stan and Ford trailed in after the doctor. Erika Strauss, her nametag read. Not that it mattered. Bill listened with half an ear as she explained what the stomach pumping had entailed to Stan and Ford, before he decided to rudely interrupt. "Why isn't he awake yet?"

The doctor sent him a tired look, less exasperated than Bill was hoping. "He'll need time to recover from the procedure. He's very weak right now, so he'll likely be unconscious for a while yet. You're welcome to stay with him until seven, when visiting hours end." She nodded politely to Stan and Ford, and Bill bit down on a noise of frustration. "I'll leave you to it." The click of her shoes sounded down the hallway until the door was shut, leaving Bill no choice but to share the space with the elder Pines twins. The _only_ Pines twins, Bill reminded himself with a wave of guilt.

Stan settled into a chair as far from Bill as he could manage, sighing under his breath but saying nothing. Ford, seeing that he was the only one willing to impart important information at the moment, cleared his throat. "Cipher. We've deemed it necessary to inform you that there is something following you and Dipper. It claims to know you, and seeks to take advantage of the vulnerabilities of your vessel."

Bill quirked an eyebrow, deciding to divert at least a little bit of his attention to the matter. "Interesting. How'd you find this out, exactly?"

"We've been investigating strange happenings around the city, since.. we believed Dipper wouldn't be willing to speak with us. A fire at a fair, a quarantined pool, a dead clerk at a boutique... do any of these events sound familiar?"

Bill stilled in thought, something cold settling in his chest. "Those are all places we've been. Whatever you're talking about, it's been following us for a while. Guess we gave it the slip in Venezuela, though. So, what's it look like? Did it give you some spooky, imposing name?"

"We don't know what it's called, but Stan described it as.. living magma. A paraphrase, but accurate enough. It appeared to have the power to warp reality in a confined space, or at least create very powerful illusions. It can also teleport. Unfortunately, we have no more information than that, and I've never encountered such a creature in my travels."

A thoughtful frown tugged at Bill's lips, and he rested his chin on top of his linked fingers. "Hm, why would he..? I guess I DID kinda leave his followers all... on fire, but that's his thing! He should really be more appreciative."

"And who exactly is _he_?" Ford inquired, looking more curious than annoyed with Bill's vague statements. Bill would have to rectify that eventually.

"A lesser demon, known as Molta Singlar, or the 'Molten One'. Some puny little thing that's always been jealous of my power and influence. Had a little cult following, before I, ah.. you know. Did the igniting thing." Bill grinned almost proudly. "Those were good times."

"Yes, well, moving past your reckless extinguishing of human lives," Ford muttered with bitter disgust, "what can we expect from this.. Molta Singlar?" He made a mental note to research exactly what language that was. Perhaps something demonic in origin?

Bill tapped his chin in mock thought, humming a long note until he received an impatient glare from Fez. He snickered to himself, before clearing his throat. "He's a sneaky little thing, no doubt. I had no idea he even knew I was in a human vessel. As for what to expect... well, like you said, he has powers of illusion and teleportation. Typical demon fare. He has a very powerful connection with magma, and fire to a lesser degree. He even did Pompeii that one time. He can't possess anyone, being fully physical, and... hm. I can't remember anything else. Must've skimped out on that when I was loading the ol' noggin."

"How do we defeat it?" Ford pressed, ignoring the demon's rambling. Bill never did know when to stop talking. "Does it have any weaknesses? Anything we could take advantage of?"

"Hmm. You know, you're askin' a whole lot of me, Sixer. How about.." A dark fire lit under Bill's flesh, and his one functioning eye swallowed his former pawn whole. "Let's make a deal, shall we? I give you what information I have, and you give me Xiuhcoatl. Sounds like a fair trade to me." Bill thrust out a hand, wiggling all eight fingers impatiently. He grinned at the outright hesitance on Ford's face, as well as the way Fez sat forward, looking to protest. "Just a little tidbit for you; I can't make proper deals in this form. Our words will have to be enough of a contract."

"Forget it," Ford spat, looking significantly less trepidatious. "Your word is worth nothing, demon. We'll figure things out with or without your help."

"Suit yourself," Bill dismissed with a shrug. He had better things to do than coddle a couple of old men, anyway. "Just don't come crying to me when ol' Molty knocks on your door. Or, more plausibly, burns your house down."

Stan snorted in disbelief, looking unconcerned. "Yeah, right. Like some puny demon is gonna make it into the Shack." He cut off whatever else he was going to boast about when Ford shot him a warning glare, but Bill's interest was already piqued.

"Ohhh? Got a secret ace in the hole, Fez? Feel like sharing with the rest of the cla-" Bill froze, his head snapping to the side when he heard a particularly audible breath from Pine Tree. Unfortunately, nothing had changed. He was still completely unconscious. The demon's eye flickered back to the annoyances that occupied the room alongside him, noting their suspicious glares. Well, Fez's was more murderous than anything, but Bill wasn't particularly concerned about that. "I doubt he'll be happy to see you when he wakes up," he began conversationally, a manic grin twisting his face as he noticed a dull flash of pain on Fez's face. Frustratingly enough, Ford showed no outward reaction. "You ruined everything for him, you know. I was going to help him find his roots again. A reason to go on. Boy, you two sure put in a lot of effort to impede that little plan, huh?"

"Shut your mouth, you freak," Stanley growled, though there was something anxious and uncertain in his voice. "You ruined everything the moment you decided to get involved in his life." He couldn't say it out loud, couldn't say the words, couldn't acknowledge-

"You mean when I killed her." All traces of Bill's grin had vacated the premises. He looked sullen, one eye flickering towards them before dropping down to stare at the tips of his shoes. "..She really was a shooting star. One I regret snuffing out."

"You don't even know the meaning of the word," Ford replied, voice dangerously low. He wouldn't tolerate the demon speaking about her, _ever._ "You're a remorseless monster, and you always have been. Whatever you've done to convince Dipper that you've changed, it won't work on us."

"Believe what you will, Stanford." Bill turned away, no longer in the mood to torment his least favorite set of Mystery Twins. He turned back to the bed's occupant, his insides aching as though he'd battered them with a hammer. He reached for a colorless hand, one without an IV attached to it. He gently stroked Dipper's knuckles, ignoring the outright hostile looks his actions earned. What they thought didn't matter. In the end, Dipper would pick him, without a doubt. There was only one pest to deal with, and then everything would get better.

Bill almost managed to convince himself of that. 


	52. Friction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be slowing down from now on.

Bill Cipher, upon being informed that visiting hours were up, had to be forcibly dragged out of Dipper's hospital room by a pair of orderlies. Ford apologized repeatedly for his behavior, and received only a stern reminder that if Bill couldn't behave himself, he wouldn't be allowed back to visit. That was more than enough to slaughter Bill's spirited protests, and he left the hospital with Stan and Ford in tow without a word.

Bill twitched with aggravation as he sat in the completely silent vehicle, desperately wanting to reach for the radio to distract himself. The least these old jerks could do was put on some boring talk show, or something. "Hey Sixer, think we can get some tunes goin-"

"Shut your trap," Stan barked with poorly concealed hostility. "I've heard more than enough of your voice today. Just keep your mouth shut, and I might even entertain the notion of letting you come visit with us tomorrow."

Bill bared his teeth in challenge, prepared to say something scathing-before he paused. Sure, he could probably just drive to the hospital once the idiot twins left him alone, but.. he was tired of arguing. Tired of bickering with Fez and Sixer over trivial nonsense. All that mattered was Pine Tree. And so he resisted the urge to sneer and spit venom, instead falling silent and staring broodingly out the window.

Stan and Ford shared a look, mingling together surprise and confusion. Stan certainly hadn't expected the demon to actually stop talking. Ford was equally surprised, considering that during the years he'd been deluded into thinking the demon was his friend, Bill had never ceased talking, even once. Stan resolved to discuss this with his brother once they were away from prying ears. At least it would distract him from everything that was going on. Although, there was one other pressing issue they would have to speak with Bill about, no matter how much Stan dreaded the thought of being forced to converse with the dream demon. But that could wait until tomorrow.

The SUV pulled into Dipper's driveway, Stan releasing his tighter than strictly necessary grip on the wheel in favor of shifting into park and shutting off the engine. He slammed his door shut behind him, and heard the echo of two other doors following suit. He unlocked the front door, only just remembering the sorry state of the place once he was staring down the mess. He hadn't even managed to open his mouth before Bill was brushing past him and beelining up the stairs. The slam of a door and click of a lock followed shortly after. "Gee, glad to see he's feeling altruistic," Stan muttered, despite the obvious irony. "C'mon Sixer, help me clean this place up."

"I suppose it would have to be done sooner or later," Ford acquiesced, stalking across the room towards the kitchen, silently indicating that he'd be handling the easiest mess to clean. He ignored Stan's grumblings as his twin set off to find a broom and mop, clearing his throat pointedly. "I believe there are a few things we need to discuss."

"You're probably right about that," Stan uttered, as he began sweeping wet glass into a dustpan. "Probably best to start with the elephant in the room, huh?"

"Indeed. Bill Cipher. Somehow he manages to be the center of attention without even being present." Ford swallowed down whatever other rude things he was going to say, trying to focus on the topic at hand. "First of all, his escape from the Mindscape is an extremely pressing issue. However he managed it, he's free now, and I doubt the same trick is going to work twice. I'm afraid we might have to find another solution. In the meantime, we'll simply have to endure him."

"Yeah, speakin' of 'enduring'," Stan began awkwardly, unsure of how to voice his thoughts. "Did it seem like he was... actin' weird to you, at all? Like... not normal? Normal for him, at least."

"I'm not surprised you've noticed it as well. His behavior has been extremely puzzling, ever since we came back into contact with him. I thought that he had been merely putting on a front to continue deluding Dipper, and that the facade had crumbled before we.." Ford cleared his throat, "disabled him."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. I just don't understand why he'd keep actin' like he cares when the kid can't even hear him. I mean, when we found Dipper and he made his," Stan waved a hand, "big, grand escape, he sounded... y'know. Actually worried. But he knows better than to try and pull one over on us, right?"

"I doubt he's unaware of our lack of trust," Ford confirmed. "He knows a lost cause when he sees one, and wouldn't bother wasting energy on pursuing an avenue that wouldn't benefit him. His behavior in the hospital was equally bizarre. He was surprisingly forthcoming with information. It's almost suspicious, but the only reason I can imagine for him sharing that information is to allow us to dispose of one of his enemies."

Stan frowned thoughtfully as he dumped glass into the trashcan, having since finished mopping the floor. "I couldn't tell ya what goes through that maniac's head. ..D'you think he really does care about Dipper? Like, as more than just a pawn, or a toy?"

"I'm not sure," Ford admitted slowly, which seemed to pain him. "The only thing I can say for certain is that Bill Cipher has become something I hadn't predicted. Hopefully we can glean more insight into his motivations tomorrow. But for now, I believe getting some rest is our best course of action." Ford rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, looking significantly more worn and noticeably less alert than he had mere moments ago.

"Yeah, probably a good idea," Stan agreed. He stowed away the cleaning supplies, and glanced at the staircase. "You think it's safe to leave triangle guy alone here?"

"While I would normally recommend keeping a very close eye on him, I believe him to be sufficiently docile for the moment. If he hasn't caused damage to the populous in the months he's been active, then I doubt there will be any incidents tonight." Ford only appeared half convinced by his own words, but exhaustion seemed to win out over vigilance. He exited the house with Stanley in tow, and fought the urge to fall into slumber the entire drive back to their hotel.

Bill Cipher locked the door to Pine Tree's bedroom behind him, relieved to finally be free of those old morons. But in the same breath, he dreaded the isolation. Bill had spent a trillion years in the Nightmare Realm, left to rot. The closest thing to interaction he achieved was making deals and manipulating others; certainly entertaining, but also incredibly short lived. He'd never experienced loneliness before, being that demons had no need for such an emotion. But with this human brain, these human chemicals and instincts..

He valued Pine Tree's company above anything else, save Pine Tree himself. The mere presence of his human brought blossoming warmth to his chest. Seeing the hurt, seeing the affection.. they both swirled together in an oroboros of vicious delight and warm fondness. Part of him still swelled with pride when he really looked at the damage he had inflicted. And in turn, his insides ached and burned and twisted with guilt.

Bill Cipher was synonymous with destruction. He reveled in it, excelled at it. He'd brought total annihilation upon the second dimension, after all. When he was done, everything was ash. But Pine Tree... he'd peeled the bark, stripped the branches, and exposed the heartwood. But instead of burning, he desired to see what would bloom from the rotted wood. Something delicate and fragile had already began to bud, until those two idiots had trampled it into the dirt. He could only hope that there was a single shred of life left in that carcass.

Bill tore off his bloodstained sweater and tossed it aside, resolving to clean it some other time. For the time being he threw himself into Pine Tree's bed, which smelled strongly of dead wood and cheap shampoo. He cocooned himself in the sheets, bunching up the comforter in such a manner that he could pretend someone was lying next to him. He laughed hollowly at his own pathetic behavior, burying his face in a fragrant pillow. It was thin enough to suggest heavy use, but still remained soft enough to provide some semblance of comfort. Bill closed his eyes, and allowed the familiar scent to lull him into an uneasy slumber.

When the next morning dawned, cool and grey, Bill woke with a profound sense of disappointment. He'd attempted to project himself into Pine Tree's Mindscape, but had been entirely unable to find it. The kid must've really done a number on himself to reach such a deep stage of unconsciousness. Bill's chest constricted with iron chains, linking through his ribs and crushing his organs. He'd done his best to distract himself from the events that had taken place, but was unable to any longer. He forced deep, even breaths, though it felt as though he was inhaling through the eye of a needle. He clawed his way out of Pine Tree's bed, wondering vaguely what he'd be wearing.

His eye locked on to the pile of luggage that had been placed near the door, and he shrugged idly. He was certainly willing to take advantage of convenience. Bill rooted through his own bag for something wearable, staring longingly at his suits before he decided on something more casual. As long as it was blindingly yellow, it would do. He exited the bedroom and headed straight for the bathroom, feeling almost as though he were emulating Pine Tree's morning routine. He stared blankly at himself in the mirror, blinking his eye closed before he began inspecting his glamour.

A dashing young man stared back at him, one with a predator's smirk and completely human proportions. No extra fingers, no needle teeth, no abnormal skeletal structure. He wondered vaguely if Pine Tree would prefer this version of himself, before discarding the thought. The boy was already enraptured with his inhuman visage; a healthy interest in the morbid and unusual proved quite the boon to Bill.

He went through the motions of freshening up, licking at the taste of chemicals and mint in his mouth before he began thudding his way downstairs. Best to make his presence known, to avoid being blasted by a trigger happy old man. The twins were already waiting for him in the kitchen, and appeared to have fixed a modest breakfast. There were only two plates. Fez glanced his way with narrowed eyes, before turning back to his breakfast. Sixer didn't even acknowledge him. "Sheesh, talk about a cold reception," Bill chirped at a volume that he knew to be particularly grating, gravitating over towards the stove. There were enough eggs leftover for a minimal serving, as well as a single sausage. He ate both of them with his bare hands, simply so he could see the disgust forming on Fez's face.

"Can't you eat like anything other than an animal?" Fez muttered, sipping at the dregs of his coffee. Bill flashed a multitude of teeth at him, an expression that held more offense than false cheer.

"Can't you do anything for your nephew other than neglect him?" Bill cackled as Fez immediately stood up from his chair, fists clenched and eyes narrowed in rage. "Let me assure you of one thing, Stanley Pines. You don't want to fight me." Bill stretched up to his full height, looming over the old geezer and offering a saw blade smile.

"He's only trying to antagonize you," Sixer spoke up in a neutral tone of voice. "Don't listen to anything he says. He isn't worth reacting to." Bill immediately bristled at the dismissal, stretching his lips further.

"Yeah, you're probably right about that," Stan huffed, giving the demon a once-over before snorting. He returned to his seat, and didn't look at him again.

"Yeah? Well, you.." Bill trailed off, at a loss for a scathing rebuttal. He snarled to cloak his embarrassment, turning on a heel to make for the front door. There really was nothing he could do to them. For once, he was the vulnerable one, and his opponents held all the power. It was two on one, even if he was certain he could overpower both of them. The problem was that Stanford was clearly paranoid enough to have multiple weapons on him at all times, and would likely vaporize Bill's head before he could so much as finish wiping off Stanley's blood. And if it were the other way around... well, his head was still tender.

There was also the issue of Pine Tree, who would certainly be upset at the deaths of his uncles. Essentially, Bill's hands were tied. Unless he somehow managed to bring the entirety of himself out of the Nightmare Realm and into this dimension, he was barely capable of warping reality to his will. Unfortunately, that was a fairly unlikely scenario. He was also... unsure if that was the best course of action. He'd revert back to being utterly remorseless, in complete control of every emotion he experienced, those being either anger or amusement. The mere thought made something hot and bitter rise in his throat, and he was out the front door before he could show any signs of weakness.

As much as he desired to simply climb into Pine Tree's own vehicle and leave those infuriating old men in the dust, something compelled him to stay. Mostly it was the fact that he didn't know where the keys to the vehicle were, and the rest was a desire to avoid being grumbled at by cranky old people. So he scaled on top of the SUV, waiting impatiently for the twins to emerge from the house.

Eventually they trickled tepidly into the driveway, Fez's eyes narrowed in annoyance and Sixer wearing a mask of neutrality to hide his exasperation. "Well, it's about time you got out here! Thought I'd be waiting forever for you two to shuffle this far."

Neither one spoke in response, though Stanley gave a light snort before climbing into the driver's side. Bill startled at the sound of the rumbling engine, hastily leaning down to open his door and crawl inside. "Wow, talk about rude. Couldn't even wait for me to get in the car?" Nothing. No verbal response whatsoever. Bill rolled his eye, ignoring how genuinely miffed he felt. "Oh no, the silent treatment. However will I cope with not being spoken to by two idiots that I hate?" The sound of a purring engine and tires treading over asphalt was the only answer. "Whatever," Bill muttered, drawing his legs up onto the seat. They were so long that they still spilled out over the edge, but he'd make do.

The rest of the ride was silent on both Fez and Sixer's end, with Bill only occasionally trying to strike up a conversation, or blurting out something intentionally rude. He was quick to give up, mood souring as he stared out of the window in an attempt to entertain himself. It was a miracle when they finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, Bill practically jumping out of the car to escape the oppressive silence. He marched right through the sliding doors and up to the front counter, imperiously demanding to be allowed to visit Landrin Pines. The receptionist snapped her gum impassively, before allowing him access. He took off down the hall just as Fez and Sixer entered the building.

Bill burst into the hospital room, remembering at the last second that Pine Tree was sleeping and immediately attempting to muffle his explosion of sound. He quietly closed the door behind him, wishing it had a lock, and turned around to see half lidded eyes staring blearily at him. "PINE TREE YOU'RE AWAKE!" He bellowed, before wincing and repeating himself at a slightly more manageable volume.

"Hard not to be, with you making so much noise," Pine Tree replied through a jaw cracking yawn, before he performed a gesture that had Bill racing to his bedside. He managed a trembling smile that had Bill's heart wavering, and he reached out to take a pale hand in his own. "I'm glad you made it out okay," Pine Tree murmured, liquid brown eyes staring right into Bill's own.

"I'm glad you helped me get out," Bill replied with a surprising quantity of honesty, before his face ran with channels of concern, hurt, and anger. "And I'm glad you aren't dead. I had no idea you were so self destructive, Pine Tree. I should've gotten rid of those pills a long time ago." He watched with a steady gaze as a hint of life rose to pallid cheeks, Pine Tree turning away in shame. "But I guess you did it to help me, so I can't be too upset." Bill flashed his gentlest smile, pulling Pine Tree's hand up to rest against his cheek. The soft, clammy flesh was familiar in the best of ways, and he sighed in pleasure at his renewed ability to feel it, pulsing with life.

And then the door was opening, allowing two old men to absolutely ruin the moment. Stan's voice was weak, despite the paltry struts he used to keep it aloft. "Dipper, you're awake. H..how ya feelin', kid?"

Ford's booted feet clicked uncertainly as he made his way further into the room, and Bill couldn't discern any emotion in his tone. "Dipper. It's good to see you're doing well."

Bill frowned as Pine Tree's hand darted out of his grasp, leading to him sullenly sitting back in his chair. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Pine Tree's face darkened, distrust clear in his expression. "Stan. Ford. What are you both doing here?"

Bill caught a moment of outright hurt on Stan's face, before it sparked into outrage. "What are we _doin_ ' here? Makin' sure you ain't _dead_ , that's what we're doin'! I'm old, kid, I can't afford a heart attack at my age, and you sure did your best to give me one!"

Pine Tree's hackles rose, his tone coated in frost. "I'm so very sorry to have caused you such heinous distress. Maybe next time you'll stay out of my life, so your poor heart will have time to recover."

"Stay out of your life?!" Stan sputtered, rage and pain mixing into a frothy cocktail. "You wouldn't _have_ a life anymore if it wasn't for us! I took you to the hospital myself; the least you could do to repay me is show a little gratitude."

Pine Tree choked out a dry laugh, blinking rapidly. He was holding back tears, Bill realized. "I wouldn't have been in danger at all if you'd just left us alone. But no, Stan and Ford always have to play the big heroes. Newsflash; I don't need to be saved by you. I don't WANT to be saved by you." The hostility in his voice was undercut by the warble that ran through it.

There was a beat of silence, before Stan's voice rose in volume and disbelief. "You wanna blame _us_ for you poppin' pills like it's your day job? I don't-" he paused, volume falling to barely above a whisper. "I don't understand why you'd even do it. Because of _him_?" Bill was in the process of getting ready to defend himself, only to catch the raw wound opening on Pine Tree's face.

"Yes. Because I was trying to save him from the prison _you_ put him in. _None_ of this would have happened without your interference. Maybe if you'd just _talked_ to us like rational human beings, everything would be okay. But that's clearly well beyond the two of you. So just.." Pine Tree's staunch anger faltered, and something more vulnerable shone underneath. "Just leave me alone."

There was an almost immediate slap of shoes against tile followed by squealing hinges, and Bill turned his head to catch sight of Stanley's retreating back before the door slammed shut. He swiveled his gaze over to Sixer, finding the man staring intently at the floor. "..There's a creature following you. Its intentions aren't entirely clear, but it seems to have plans to take advantage of Bill's currently vulnerable form. I'm willing to extend the offer to come with us to Gravity Falls, so we can ensure your safety. You'd be free to leave the moment we dispose of your pursuer. I don't need an answer immediately, but I'd appreciate if you'd give it some thought. ...I'm glad you are well." Stanford rose slowly from his seat, his eyes never quite meeting Pine Tree's.

"..Yeah, I'll think about it. Thanks for letting me know." Bill and Pine Tree both watched as Sixer gently inclined his head, before exiting the room. There was a long moment of silence, before Pine Tree released a shuddering breath and fell, boneless, against his pillows. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Bill."

"That's what you have me for, right?" Bill plastered on his brightest grin, scooting his chair close enough that he could lean his head against Pine Tree's. He smelled like the hospital, all medicinal chemicals and whatever they used to wash the sheets and pillowcases. But that familiar scent was always there, just underneath the surface. "Don't worry about Stanley; old men are just cranky like that."

Pine Tree made a soft noise that Bill was unable to decipher, before his hand groped outwards. Bill caught the hint, and immediately took it in his grasp. "I just don't know how to even talk to him, anymore. Everything he says... it's like he doesn't actually care about _me_ , he cares about the old Dipper. He thinks that if he saves me from you, everything will go back to how it used to be. ...But it never will." Pine Tree's grip tightened on his hand, and Bill squeezed back.

"I think you hit the nail on the head there, Pine Tree. But, uh... more pressingly, what do you want to do about our biggest fan? He's the one that burned down the fair, by the way." Bill watched emotions flicker over Pine Tree's face like a candle's flame in a breeze, unable to read any of them in time.

"I don't know. Maybe we _should_ go to Gravity Falls, but... I don't know if I can stand to be around Stan right now. This.. whatever it is that's following us, do you know anything about it?" Pine Tree stared him down, eyes shining with a dim hope that Bill never wanted to see extinguished.

"Sure I do! He's an old... well, acquaintance might be a strong word. We've had run ins in the past, and he's always been a bit jealous of my incredible fashion sense and general superiority." Bill grinned at the hint of a smile he saw on Pine Tree's face, feeling something warm and cottony fill his rib cage. "He's a demon like me, just not as impressive. Although he does have a physical form. He's peanuts in the grand scheme of things, but right now... I'm not completely confident in my ability to take him down with this meat suit."

Pine Tree hummed in thought, eyes shutting briefly. Bill felt his heart skip at the irrational thought that they wouldn't open again. "Do you think going to Gravity Falls would be a good idea? Just until we get rid of it?"

"To be upfront with you, I think Fez and Sixer have some kinda way to protect against dangerous supernatural creatures built into that old shack of theirs. Why else would they want us in that backwater town? Let's face it; Gravity Falls isn't exactly the best place to go to escape something supernatural." Bill brightened considerably when he heard the barest hint of laughter, more of a staggered breath of amusement than anything.

"It's funny that you mention that," Pine Tree began, catching Bill's attention immediately. "We sort've.. back during our first summer, when you were still at large, Ford had us build a protection circle around the Shack, to keep you out. I'm guessing since they're willing to take you along that it will allow your human body through, and keep other demons out."

Bill made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, before flashing a face splitting grin. "Well, I guess that settles it, huh?"

"Looks like we're going to Gravity Falls."


	53. Bodies

Bill twitched with agitation in an uncomfortable plastic chair, fidgeting with the strap of his eyepatch to give himself something to do. He'd been ousted from Pine Tree's room several minutes earlier, having been informed that he could return once a mandatory psychiatric evaluation was performed. The thought of some pseudo-intellectual with a fancy piece of paper trying to pick apart his Pine Tree's brain made him seethe with rage and jealousy. HE was the only one allowed inside that head.

There was also the issue of Fez and Sixer having left without him. Bill clenched a fist at the thought of those detestable twins, having the utter gall to leave him behind. He told himself that it didn't matter, and that he would have wanted to stay behind anyway, but being spurned always left him feeling distinctly sour. But it didn't matter, he reiterated. All he needed those two for was lodging in that shabby old shack, and a chance to slaughter Molty once and for all. As 'once and for all' as you could get with demons, at least.

On that note, he'd really have to swipe Xiuhcoatl back from Stanford. There was no way that old nerd could properly handle something so powerful. Also it was incredibly time consuming to make, and Bill REALLY wanted to shoot someone with it again. He giggled under his breath as he conjured the delightful image of splattering the walls of Pine Tree's hospital room with his psychiatrist's insides. There was no way some two-bit shrink would even come close to being able to handle Pine Tree's delicate psyche. The bumbling idiot would likely cause even more damage with heavy handed questions and nonexistent tact. Bill's insides boiled at the thought, and he wanted nothing more than to put a swift and bloody end to the entire thing.

Only... why couldn't he? He resisted the urge to sit up with his sudden realization, thoughts already whirring through his skull. A skull he'd soon be vacating, at least for a little while. He hadn't exactly been in the right state of mind to contemplate his state of being upon breaking free of the Mindscape, but he'd very obviously been able to conjure up a form composed of pure energy, even if it was utterly pathetic in the face of the monumental power he normally possessed. But that didn't mean his power was completely insignificant. While he might not be able to wreak havoc on a galactic scale, he could certainly manage something small and simple. Bill choked down a manic cackle, slumping back in his seat and closing his eye to give the illusion of having fallen asleep.

For reasons unbeknownst to the dream demon, he likened emerging from his body to being pulled out of a giant jello mold. There was a sticky, sucking pressure that attempted to tug him back, before he popped free entirely. He inspected his thin black hands with something like nostalgia, though it hadn't been very long since he'd been armed with them. He cackled at his play on words, having already made himself completely undetectable to human senses. He conjured up his cane and twirled it around, the motion coming to him much more naturally without all those clunky fingers getting in the way.

But he had a job to do. Nobody was allowed to psychoanalyze his Pine Tree. That mind was his and his alone. He floated off down the hallway towards Pine Tree's room, floating right through the tightly shut door. The sound of a deep, monotone voice soon became apparent, and he blinked at the profile of the psychiatrist. A man presumably in his mid sixties, greying hair and pronounced wrinkles giving him an aged appearance. Bill took one glance at his tweed jacket and snorted in disgust, his eye catching on a nametag.

"Daniel Krieger, huh? Let's have some fun, you and I." Bill willed himself into an unfamiliar mind, roughly shoving aside the already present consciousness as he exerted his influence over every appendage, muscle, and nerve. The body slumped over in its seat, and he vaguely heard concern in Pine Tree's voice before he straightened back up. He blinked open each eye individually, sickly yellow sclera and slitted pupils the obvious indicator of his possession. "Hey there, Pine Tree!"

"Bill?! What are you-" Pine Tree shut his mouth with an audible click as Bill raised a finger, and he almost purred at the sheer obedience. He glanced down at the notes the psychiatrist had taken, finding words such as 'unstable', 'suicidal' and 'delusional' written in chicken scratch.

"Well, this won't do at all. And clearly I'm here to help you, Pine Tree!" Bill began incessantly clicking a pen that had apparently been in his hand, frowning thoughtfully down at the notes. Damning as they were, they were also extremely sparse. "You and me? We're gonna pull a caper, okay? What've you told this joker so far?"

Pine Tree's eyes widened in understanding, and he bit his lip hesitantly before Bill could see him visibly give in. "He asked me questions about the pills, and about my current state of mind. I tried to sound really vague, and told him I'd taken too many sleeping pills after being frustrated with my insomnia. I told him I had no intention of killing myself, and that I hadn't entirely understood how dangerous it was to go over the recommended dosage. He kept insinuating that there was something wrong with me, and I kept denying it. Probably too much, honestly."

"That would explain all of this nonsense," Bill chirped, waving around the notepad. "Luckily, I'm here to scramble his brains six ways from Sunday!" Without even thinking about it, Bill clicked the pen once more, and jammed the nub of it into his thigh. He cackled at the sharp bite of pain, blood welling up to soak into ill fitting slacks.

"Bill," Pine Tree hissed, eyes wide with shock, "you can't just _mutilate_ him! It'll look pretty suspicious if he's covered in wounds once he's done evaluating me!" Bill pouted with an unfamiliar face, but begrudgingly accepted Pine Tree's logic.

"Fine, I won't injure him anymore. I just need to rewrite this evaluation, and then I can... 'adjust' his memories a bit. Just a little bit of tinkering!" he clarified, seeing the skeptical look on Pine Tree's face. "I'm not gonna make him think he's an antelope, or something. Although maybe an orangutan would be-" Bill paused at the disapproval on Pine Tree's face, and deflated. "Fine, I'll just make him think you're in good mental health, and that he'd deduced that all on his own."

"Alright, I guess that works," Pine Tree mumbled in a tone that suggested he barely even agreed with Bill's totally mild and completely safe methods. "But what about the hole you just put in his leg? How are you going to-"

Bill made a sharp shushing sound, and proceeded to wag a finger stained with blood and spots of ink. "Don't you worry about a thing, Pine Tree! I've got this all covered. Now just let me work, and you'll be out of this corpse factory before you know it." He licked the end of the pen, humming in pleasant surprise at the tang of blood and ink. He ignored Pine Tree's slightly nauseous look before he stared down at the notepad, carefully studying Dr. Kriegler's handwriting before eventually just letting his stolen muscle memory do the bulk of the work. He tried to sound as clinical and professional as possible, while still maintaining the assurance of the mental stability of Landrin Pines. He might have stretched it a bit far by dotting all of the 'i's with smiley faces, but they made him laugh so it was probably a completely solid idea. "Aaaand done! I just need to... file this, I guess, and then I can discard this gross meat body." Bill wrinkled his mustache in abject disgust, which quickly became a wide grin at the sound of Pine Tree's laughter.

"You're ridiculous," his human spoke, voice flavored with currents of fondness. It didn't bring to life that sensation of blossoming warmth in his chest that Bill had associated with pleasing his Pine Tree, but he wasn't particularly worried. He'd have all that back once he was reinhabiting his rightful skin suit. He gave a jaunty wave before exiting the room, sifting idly through surface memories to discern exactly where Kriegler's office was located. He rode an elevator up several stories, making his way down winding hallways before he unlocked a door with the good doctor's name plaqued onto it. He inspected the filing system, before quickly drawing one up for Pines, Landrin. He neatly placed his report inside the new file, and then gleefully tossed his stolen body out of the window. It fell nearly eighty feet before crunching on the asphalt below, Bill having vacated it the moment it hit open air. He howled with hysterical laughter as screams faintly rang out from below, onlookers staring in horror at the mangled corpse.

Satisfied with a job well done, He floated serenely back to his body, sinking into it and feeling his dormant nerves flare to life. His eye snapped open and a sickening grin oozed onto his lips. He lurched up from his seat, cracking his limbs to alleviate the stiffness that had settled in them. He glanced back through the main entrance, where a gaggle of EMTs were rushing around to the other side of the building. He wasn't particularly worried, though; there was no surviving a fall like that. He ambled casually up to the front desk, and flashed his most charming grin at the receptionist. "Hello, I'm here to visit Landrin Pines."

The receptionist gave him a flat look, snapping her gum. "Sir, Mr. Pines is currently undergoing a mandatory psyche evaluation. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until-" she paused as a landline began ringing, blatantly ignoring him as she answered it. Whatever was said on the other line had her face drained of color in moments.

"I'll just show myself in," Bill chirped, flashing a wink that could have easily been mistaken for a blink before he was heading off down the hall.

Dipper sat back up in bed once he heard the familiar slap of Bill's oxfords, mustering up a smile when the demon burst through the door. "Hey, that was quick. I'm guessing everything went well?"

"Oh, you'd better believe it!" Bill chirped, looking horribly pleased with himself. Dipper wasn't entirely sure why; maybe it was simply because the demon now had access to a wider range of powers. He supposed that made sense. "Oh," Bill began at a piercing pitch, "when are you being discharged, Pine Tree?"

"Later today, actually. They were going to keep me longer if the psyche evaluation didn't go well, but.. I guess you fixed that issue, huh?" Dipper was almost honored that Bill would go to those sorts of lengths for his benefit, at least when he was without any real emotions. He'd certainly seemed a little more like his old self when he was possessing Dr. Kriegler, but at the same time he was much more... generous, Dipper tentatively labeled. Sure, he had still done it for his own benefit, but Dipper was willing to take what he could get. "Hey.. where are Stan and Ford, by the way?"

Bill's wide grin immediately dissolved, morphing into a disgusted sneer. "They just LEFT without even telling me, Pine Tree. Talk about rude! You'll have to give them a stern talking-to for me when they come back. I'd slash their tires, but they're our only transportation at the moment and I'm pretty sure they don't even own that vehicle."

"Please don't slash any tires," Dipper sighed, unable to keep the quirk of a smile from rising to his lips. "I'm sure they'll be back soon, and that they didn't mean to-okay, they probably _did_ mean to leave you, but they'll be back. Maybe they just had to pack, or something."

"That BETTER be all it is," Bill muttered in clearly exaggerated irritation. "Speaking of, is there anything you want to bring to Gravity Falls? Computer, books, secret box under your bed that you don't think I know about?"

Dipper rolled his eyes, trying to think of anything he actually did want to bring with him. "Yes, just the Journals, and we both know I don't have a secret box under my bed." Dipper took a moment to reflect on how little he actually valued his physical possessions. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one, at this point.

"Haha, I know! It's in the back of your closet!" Bill seemed to completely ignore the mortified flush that rose to Dipper's face, and continued speaking. "We pretty much still have our essentials packed at the moment, anyway. How convenient!" He moved his eyepatch to the side to wink properly, before he carefully fixed it back into place. "That, on the other hand, is much more inconvenient. Remind me to invest in a second eye down the line."

"I'll be sure to do that," Dipper promised as blandly as he could manage, unable to keep a hint of amusement out of his voice. Bill apparently had no such trouble with picking up on that, for he flashed a serrated grin that had Dipper's insides twisting pleasantly. "Are there any other pressing issues we need to attend to, at the moment?" Like a snuffed flame, Bill's entire demeanor flattened in an instant. Dipper attempted to vocalize an apology without even knowing what was going on, but the demon was first to the draw.

"Actually, I've been.. wondering. About things." Bill didn't even seem to realize his dramatic tonal shift until he had already started speaking. His visible eye widened, before he sloppily applied a voice dripping in false chipperness. "So uh! I'm sure you remember what you... found. In my pseudo-Mindscape. And you asked me if I, if it was.." Bill trailed off, his poor attempt at good cheer trickling away. "You asked me if that was my idealized vision of you. And I told you it wasn't. So, uh.. I thought it only fair to ask..." The air around Bill shimmered like hot currents over sun baked asphalt. It grew and intensified in mere moments, before it eventually consumed Bill entirely. Then with a soft, tinkling chime, it faded away to reveal something painfully human. Golden blond hair fell in waves around his face, framing a slightly upturned nose and sharp, deeply set eyes, one of which was painted a soft blue. Delicate pink lips were naturally pulled into a dashing smirk. He was composed of human arms and human legs and a proportional torso, all visible parts of them wrapped in skin that was healthy and looked blessed by the sun itself. "Is this what you'd rather me be, Pine Tree?" Bill murmured, lost and unsure. He sounded unnaturally vulnerable, so much so that Dipper feared he might shatter on the spot, were the wrong words spoken to him. Yet still that insufferable grin lived on his face, exhuding false confidence.

Dipper didn't even spare a moment to think over the question. "No," he began softly, "I don't want to be lied to. You're not human. You're terrifying, and alien, and fascinating, and-bewitching. I don't want a perfect doll. I want what you really are. Something that can frighten me and-.. and endear me, all in one breath. Whether my eyes are closed or open, I want.." The EKG beeped a more insistent rhythm, and Dipper frantically attempted to banish the warming carcasses of emotion that crowded the hollow of his chest. "I want to see the face that destroyed me; the one I belong to," he finished in a breath and a half, head dragged by the undertow as he tried to rationalize something he'd barely even been able to admit to himself.

Bill shone like a dying star. Gangly, twisted limbs emerged from the untrue shell of humanity, stretching and unwinding to their full breadth. Fingers sprouted and turned crooked, bone structures enlongated and deformed. A thousand rows of surgical needles tore pallid lips into a world shattering grin, and a single golden eye blazed with cosmic fire.

Dipper sat up in bed, and embraced the beast that had so thoroughly captivated him


	54. Reconcile

The scent of hot grease and fried meats hung heavy in the interior of the SUV, a smell that simultaneously made Stanley's mouth water and gave him phantom heartburn at the thought of eating it. Unfortunately, it provided a poor distraction from his current predicament. "-just don't know what to do with him anymore, Sixer. It's like I barely even know him." He honked aggressively at a driver that spent a moment too long hanging at a green light, and it helped relieve a smidgen of his frustration.

"A lot can change in a short time, Stanley," Ford replied patiently, looking vaguely nauseous from the smells wafting out of multiple fast food bags. "Dipper's psyche has undergone a dramatic shift in the time we've been abroad. It's no wonder you are having trouble adjusting to such an abrupt change."

"Knowing _why_ I don't get him doesn't help me with understanding him, Sixer." Stan flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, groaning as he ran into yet another red light. "He's _gotta_ know that Cipher is bad news, right? After everything he's done, how can Dipper just-go along with it? Even _if_ he's got 'human emotions' now, that doesn't excuse what he's done. Regret doesn't make things right." Stan did his marked best to ignore the hollow pang in his chest. The past wasn't important right now.

"Perhaps we cannot undo our actions, but regret is the first step to atoning for them." Ford sighed audibly, looking greatly conflicted. "I have years of experience with Bill Cipher, and even when he played the role of friend and confidant... he never behaved like this. I am loathe to admit that something might have changed in him, but even so that does not make him any less dangerous. We will have to remain cautious and vigilant, but.. I doubt open hostility will serve us well. Hostility to Bill and Dipper both."

Stan appeared sufficiently cowed, head bowed even as his eyes locked on the road. "Probably right about that. The kid's not right in the head. I can't treat him like he's making a rational decision, here. I should probably apologize," he grumbled, annoyed at having to add another tally to his incredibly sparse 'apology counter'.

"That would be very admirable of you, Stanley. And it will hopefully lead to the mending of our relationship with him." Ford began undoing his seat belt as they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, nose wrinkled in disgust as he gingerly gathered up bags of fast food. "I'm almost entirely positive that fast food isn't ideal for the malnourished."

"Yeah, well, a little bit of grease ain't gonna kill him. And if it makes you happy, we'll.." Stan waved a hand vaguely as he climbed out of the SUV, "get some multivitamins from a gas station, or somethin'." He ignored his brother's eyeroll in favor of tromping into the hospital, and informing the receptionist of their visiting Landrin Pines. She looked a little pale in the face, but Stan merely attributed it to the fluorescent lighting. Those things could wash anyone out. He stopped in front of the door leading into the hospital room, straining to make out the muffled chatter from behind it. Eventually giving up, he hesitantly creaked the door open, schooling his expression into something apologetic as he stepped inside with Ford in tow. "Hey, kiddo... I uh.. we brought food," he began lamely.

Dipper glanced up from where he and Bill had been hunched over his phone, glancing cooly in his grunkles' direction. "I can see that." He sat up a little straighter, stomach roiling as he caught a whiff of grease. His gaze slid right over Stan's hopeful expression, and he nodded mildly to Ford.

Bill perked up immensely at the smell of food, head cocking towards one of the grease stained bags. "Oh, so that's why you two ditched me! I thought it was just because you're monumental jerks, or something."

"We doubted you'd want to leave Dipper's side if you could help it, Cipher." Ford's tone was certainly lacking in warmth, but there wasn't anything distinctly unfriendly about it. He nudged Stanley in the back of the leg with his foot before he moved to drag over a chair whilst juggling bags of food.

"Oh, right," Stan chuckled nervously. He made a solid effort to catch Dipper's eye, expression pulled into something remorseful. "Listen, kid... I wanted to apologize for what I said. I know things aren't great right now, so you're probably feelin' pretty stressed. And you definitely don't need me pilin' anything more on your plate right now. I can't say I'm happy about your decisions, but... I'll try to respect them." He ignored the hawkish look that Cipher was pinning him with, much more concerned with Dipper at the moment.

"..Thanks, Grunkle Stan. That really means a lot." Dipper's face was void of anything save cool relief. "Not to say that what you said was okay, because it wasn't, but.. I'm willing to accept your apology. And I should apologize too. I know you were just doing what you thought was right, to try and help me. Even if I don't think you went about it the right way, I still appreciate it." Dipper tried for a reassuring grin, but it came out as unsure and pathetic as he felt. At least he'd managed a smile at all.

Before anything more could be said, Bill leapt to his feet and began applauding uproariously. "Such a beautiful reconciliation! Brings a tear to my eye! This one specifically." He pointed at his eyepatch. "But you can't really see it, I guess. ANYWAY, if all the emotional garbage is over with, can we finally eat?" There was a moment of silent stares, and he blinked twice. "What, is there something on my face?"

Dipper was discharged from the hospital roughly an hour later, after choking down half of a hamburger and watching in disgust as Bill pulverized everything uneaten like a living garbage disposal. The demon in question wheeled him out of the front lobby, even though Dipper was squirming with the urge to actually stand on his own two feet. Of course, the moment he had to do so to get in the vehicle, he just about managed to accrue a mouthful of pavement. Bill caught him by the back of the shirt, and tossed him like a ragdoll into the back of the car.

"Was that entirely necessary?" Dipper griped, trying to remember in what direction 'up' was located. Eventually he managed to sit upright, strapping himself into his seat moments before he was accosted by a tangle of gangly limbs.

"Yes, it was," Bill promised solemnly as he draped himself over his human. "Any chance I get to pick you up and fling you around has to be taken advantage of, for the sake of my amusement."

"Hey! No gettin' handsy in the back of the car," Stan barked, looking mildly disgusted. "Or ever, preferably. I'd really like to keep my lunch down." He caught Bill's eye in the rear view mirror, and scowled as the demon very purposefully climbed almost entirely on top of Dipper. "Sheesh... alright, here's the plan. We're gonna drop you two off to pack whatever essentials you need while we grab our things and return this car. Then you'll come pick us up, and we'll start drivin' to Gravity Falls." Stan's tone brokered no arguments.

"Grunkle Stan, why can't we just take a plane?" Dipper argued, feeling a wave of dread at the thought of being stuck inside a car for two full days. "Didn't you two fly here?"

"We did," Ford began, shooting a slightly heated look at the side of his brother's head. "I used one of my cloaking cubes, designed to obfuscate the volatility of some of my more.. illegal equipment. Unfortunately it short circuited after Stan mistook it for a sugar cube, so I won't be able to smuggle my belongings past security."

Stan's' rebuttal was a strange mixture of defensive and accusatory. "Hey, don't pin the blame on me! It's not my fault it literally looked _exactly_ like a cube of sugar. And what the heck was it even doin' next to the coffee maker in the first place?!"

"These two are a lot more entertaining than I remember," Bill stage whispered to his Pine Tree, insides squirming with delight and pride as he saw a smile crack the human's face. "So you two stooges have a plan for when we actually make it to your rundown old shack? Are we gonna make arts and crafts in your fallout shelter until Molty gets bored, or something?"

"I have more than a few ways to dispel a demon," Ford replied in a manner that would have seemed boastful, were it not for his matter-of-fact tone. "Unfortunately, most of them are fairly taxing, and involve quite a lot of resources and preparation. If you had any more convenient solutions-"

"Cough let me out of the Nightmare Realm cough," Bill blurted as quickly as he could force the words out of his mouth. He raised his hands at the stony glare Ford directed at him. "Kidding! Just kidding. But that really would help, you know. Cosmic knowledge and all that. But since I know you won't allow that, Xiuhcoatl might do the trick. Might."

"The gun?" Ford confirmed, grimacing at the nod he received. "I'd like to avoid using that, if at all possible. The malicious arcane energies imbued in it-"

"Are perfect for blasting supernatural creatures into paste!" Bill interrupted. "And if you're so scared of bad juju, let me use it! I've already fired that bad boy once without any side effects, so I'm certain it'll be fine for a second use. Or an eighth use, depending. Also it belongs to ME, and stealing it was VERY RUDE, Fordsie."

"I prefer to think of it as a public service, parting you from something so destructive," Ford countered smarmily. "Make no mistake; I don't trust you. The only reason you're even coming to Gravity Falls is for Dipper's sake. But if you make one wrong move, I'm sure I'll have no trouble adjusting the wards to repel a demon in a human body."

"Yeesh, always so sour, Fordsie. I can see age hasn't done much to mellow you out." Bill appeared entirely unconcerned with the threats, seemingly preoccupied with inspecting his fingernails. "I won't cause any trouble. Probably. Nothing that'll get anyone killed. Any of you. Not through direct actions."

"How reassuring," Stan snorted. "You're really temptin' me to drop you off and hightail it out of here, Cipher."

"Hey hey, let's not do anything hasty!" Bill began hastily. "Look, I can't make any promises, but I CAN tell you that I won't lay a finger on either of you unless you give me a VERY good reason to do so. How's that sound? Pretty good deal, if I do say so myself."

"Guess I'll take what I can get," Stan grunted, sounding less than pleased with the current circumstances. He pulled into Dipper's driveway, shifting into park. "Now get out and get your stuff. We'll call you and give you the address when we're ready."

"Yeah, yeah," Bill replied dismissively as he crawled out of his door. He scaled over the top of the vehicle, leaning upside down to grin at Pine Tree through his window. He opened the door before gripping the lip of the roof and lurching down onto his feet. "Up you go!" He lifted Pine Tree out of his seat and into the air as if he was nothing but bones, despite adamant protests that he could walk fine on his own. Bill kicked the door shut behind him, and earned a stern look from Stanley before the SUV was pulling away. "Jeez, glad those jerks are finally gone. You'd think being in the middle of the ocean would give them time to brush up on social etiquette, you know what I mean?"

"I think it's more that you're an incorrigibly rude dream demon from another dimension that tried to destroy the world, and they're kinda hung up on that." Dipper made another marked effort to squirm out of Bill's grip, but the prison of flesh and bone remained sturdy and unyielding. "Although you weren't being _nearly_ as rude as I'm sure you wanted to be."

Bill puffed up like a venomous frog, pride rolling off of him in waves. "That's right! They should really be more appreciative of my almost manners. Like you, Pine Tree! I know YOU appreciate me not being as big of a jerk as I could be." He came to a stop before the front door, glancing between the lock and the warm body in his arms. After a moment of consideration, Bill concocted the perfect solution for his debacle. "Pine Tree, reach into my pocket for the keys and unlock the door."

"...I _could_ do that," Dipper began, incredulity and exasperation mingling politely on his face, " _or_ you could put me down so we don't have to jump through hoops just to get inside of the house."

"Knowing you, you'd somehow manage to crack your head open in a padded room if I left you unsupervised," Bill retorted, already attempting to bend his leg backwards to fish the keys out of his pocket. It was going surprisingly well. "So no, I'm not putting you down, especially right after getting out of the hospital. I'd rather wait a few days before leaving to allow you to regain your strength possiblybydrawingarcaneenergyfromtheuniverseviahumansacrifice," Bill coughed his final string of words. "BUT APPARENTLY," he interrupted before Pine Tree could scold him, "old people are really impatient and they might develop some sort of hernia if we keep them waiting too long."

Dipper sighed breathily, reaching down to yank his house keys out of Bill's pockets, and squirm around to properly insert them in the lock. "Look, as much as I'd love to wait around and sleep, we _do_ have a demon hunting us. I feel much safer leaving for Gravity Falls as soon as possible. And I'm perfectly fine. Being malnourished doesn't mean I'm an invalid." Dipper patiently ignored the chime of 'Pretty sure that's exactly what it means!' and began firmly pulling at one of Bill's arms. "I'll just try to eat more and stay hydrated, and I'll have my strength back in no time. Now put me _down_." He yelped in shock as the arms encasing him immediately pulled away, leaving him to crash onto his hands and knees. "...Thanks."

Bill merely laughed in return, ignoring his liquid currents of concern in favor of tromping through the house. "So, laptop and Journals. Anything else? You sure you don't want your secret box that I definitely know about?" He stopped at the foot of the stairs and glanced backwards with a nightmarishly innocent grin.

"Y-yes I'm sure I don't want that," Dipper sputtered, shakily rising to his feet. His legs were unsteady beneath him, but he was capable of standing without wobbling too violently, so he considered that a victory. "If you could put my laptop and the Journals in my bag, I'd really appreciate it." He stood as tall and steady as he could manage, resisting the compulsion to waver under the intensity of Bill's staring.

"...Alright, can do! That means you owe me something, by the way. Hey, you think they have any goats at the pet store?" Bill continued speculating about increasingly morbid rituals involving goats as he ascended the stairs, which allowed Dipper the chance to initiate a (mostly) controlled collapse to the floor. He certainly wasn't unused to feeling weak; he'd never been particularly strong, and he hadn't always been in the best health. It was simply the combination of four days of eating virtually nothing, combined with a bone deep weariness that had settled in from his abuse of sleeping aids and having his stomach pumped only twenty four hours earlier that had him feeling completely useless. Useless in a physical sense, at least.

But he could feel terrible about himself later, when he was trapped in a car with a paranoid paranormal investigator, a dream demon that delighted in making people upset, and an easily irritated conman. Shipping himself to Gravity Falls in a wooden box probably would have been a better plan. He managed to rise to his feet once more, staggering into the kitchen for hydration purposes. The hospital had given him very specific dietary instructions, both verbally and in the form of an email. They'd also recommended a nutritionist in town, but that wasn't on the table. He'd just have to hope that some sort of farmer's market had opened in Gravity Falls in the time he'd been gone, so that he could eat more than pancakes and whatever off-brand groceries were available at the local mart.

Of course, this all depended on how long they'd even be staying. Ideally it'd only be a week or two of preparation, and then they'd dispel a demon and Dipper could go home with his own demon without having to live in fear of being murdered. He was suddenly gripped by a thought covered in barbs, tearing and puncturing the inside of his head. Gravity Falls was home to numerous people that knew him well. And those that didn't know him, knew his sister. He couldn't tell them she'd died. It was  _not_ an option. He wouldn't be able to handle the pity, the sympathy, the soft looks and reassuring smiles and-they were all things he didn't deserve. He was instrumental in her death, and he deserved to suffer for it. But what would he tell them instead?

He had to think about this rationally. Wendy lived all the way up in Seattle; she'd moved up there to work on her engineering degree. Soos and Melody had moved to Portland after their seventh year of running the Mystery Shack, and had closed it down permanently. Pacifica was in Costa Rica last he knew, but she was always travelling, so his information was shaky at best. Candy was attending a college for music up in Washington, and Grenda was living in Austria with Marius. Robbie, surprisingly, was living in Los Angeles, and toured frequently with his band, 'Heartbreaker'. Gideon... Dipper wasn't actually sure what had happened to Gideon. He'd basically dropped off the radar once he'd been released from prison, and Dipper hadn't given it much thought beyond that. But someone that conniving and temperamental was dangerous, especially when he took into account the psychic's obsession with his sister. If Gideon found out she was dead...

But none of that even mattered because it was _summer_. The time of year when they all reconvened in Gravity Falls. When they'd all be expecting him and his sister.

Suddenly, the thought of being slaughtered by a demon didn't sound so terrible. 


	55. Respite

If asked, Dipper would describe the first four hours of the drive as absolutely agonizing. However, all of the individuals that would have been in a position to ask him were preoccupied with shouting and arguing and cackling incessantly. It had been an almost endless flood of cacophony since the moment they'd all crammed into Dipper's car. Dipper cursed his lack of foresight, wishing he'd fished his earbuds out of his bag so he could at least drown out the noise. Unfortunately it seemed as though he were cursed to endure the endless babblings of Bill Cipher, which fiercely combated the conjoined yells of Stanley Pines and the monotone snark of Stanford Pines.

It was at the six hour mark when he could finally hear himself think again. Bill had apparently run out of ammunition, or at least planned to conserve it for a more opportune moment. The demon was now without his seatbelt, scuttling around on all fours and digging his hands underneath and between the seats for... something. Dipper was pretty sure there was nothing to be found, considering how clean he kept his car. But at least the hands occasionally brushing his legs or his side weren't completely intolerable. He leaned back against his headrest, wishing he'd brought a pillow or something similar along so that he could at least sleep through a few hours of dreary travelling.

"Pine Tree, Pine Tree! I found one of mankind's greatest treasures under your seat!" Dipper glanced down blearily as Bill slithered up from between his legs, clutching something small and rectangular in his hand. "Ha! It's actually a candy bar. Still pretty great."

"Don't eat that, it's probably expired," Dipper cautioned, as Bill paused in the middle of tearing open the wrapper. "You might get sick if you eat that."

"Silly Pine Tree, everyone knows chocolate doesn't expire!" Bill made to take a bite, only to glance back at the incredulous look he received. "What? Trust me, I know these things. Master of the Mind, remember?"

"Right, how could I forget?" Dipper mocked. "It must've slipped my mind that one of the crucial ingredients necessary to invading people's minds is  _chocolate_. Just.. put it somewhere so we can throw it away later. I don't want you throwing up inside of my car."

"If you puke in here, I'm kickin' you out on the side of the road," Stan added from the driver's seat. "Actually, on second thought, feel free! I can spot you for the clean, Dipper."

"Yeah, no. No throwing up, please." Dipper looked fairly ill at the mere thought of someone vomiting. "Just don't eat it, Bill."

"I'm TELLING you, chocolate doesn't go bad, Pine Tree! That's an all seeing FACT right there!" Bill jerked his hand away as Dipper lunged for the candy bar, using his other hand to push the human's face away. "Violence won't solve your problems, Pine Tree. Well, it will, but this isn't even a problem because I'm going to eat this and be just fine!" Bill fumbled to unwrap the bar with one hand, fingers sliding over the slick plastic wrapping.

"As infuriating as it is to admit, Bill is correct," Ford spoke up. "Chocolate doesn't have a traditional expiration date. It'll start tasting more like dirt after a while, but it will still be perfectly safe to eat for nearly a decade."

"HA!" Bill crowed victoriously as he watch incredulity fade away into begrudging acceptance. "That's right! Master of the Mind All Seeing Eye wins again!" Bill easily shook off Dipper's slack grip, and proceeded to take a satisfying chomp out of the chocolate bar.

"...Although you probably  _will_ get sick from eating the wrapper," Ford continued, sounding mildly amused. Bill would have scolded him for taking pleasure in the pain of others if we wasn't busy trying to pull a plastic wrapper out of his throat.

A few hours later found them off the road and shacked up in a building that barely qualified as a hotel. Dipper had repeatedly offered to pay for a stay in a nicer establishment, only to be met with staunch refusal from Stan. Years of penny pinching had ingrained deep rooted frugality in his head. It might've also had something to do with Dipper having not yet informed them of his status as a newly minted millionaire. He wasn't entirely sure how to bring up the issue of having acquired millions of dollars by using a cult to smuggle illegally held Aztec gold into the country without it sounding bad. But, he reflected bleakly, it probably wouldn't do much to increase Stan and Ford's disappointment in him.

Instead of informing them, he quietly begrudged the adequate lodgings, bringing a change of clothes into the room he shared with Bill and cleaning himself in a shower that felt more like a slightly tall cabinet. Bill was surprisingly quiet, having apparently worn himself out by babbling incessantly for the eight(?) hours they'd been trapped in a car together. Instead he merely invaded Dipper's bed with a legion of limbs, cold lips and the tip of a nose brushing against his neck as the demon drifted away. Dipper was quick to follow.

An ocean breeze created a bone deep freeze. Howling winds shrieked through his openings, his skin flapping in the air like a loose sweatshirt. It trailed after him at a poor framerate, stuttering and pulling backwards with each step before snapping into place. The moon hung high beneath him, sand and glass spiraling between his fingertips. The pale red sun bellowed a deep, thundering timbre that shook him into standing dust. He was half aware of star collisions, lances of plasma and radiation caressing the frigid nothing above him. He fell flat on his back and stared up into the cosmos, fingers twisting out of his chest to meet them. Dim orange lights peered at him from the dark, blinking and tittering before he could shoo them away. His eyes dripped like drying glue as he gazed listlessly back and forth, before he was swallowed whole by the moonlight-

-and spat out into the Mindscape, gasping and twisting in his bed. Dipper grasped desperately at his face, fingers deforming flesh that was, thankfully, attached to him. His thundering heart slowed to a dull thud, and he breathed out a sigh of relief- "HI PINE TREE-" Dipper screamed at a decibel that seemed capable of shattering glass, slipping out of his bed and cracking his head against the floor. He stared dazedly up at the ceiling, before the shadow of a grinning Bill Cipher was cast over him. "Boy, you sure do scream a lot. Usually when I'm around. I'm starting to sense a connection."

Dipper gulped down a few lungfuls of air, pressing a palm against his chest in an attempt to calm his heartbeat. "Usually it's because you're jumping around corners and scaring me," he replied breathlessly, reaching up to grope at open air before numerous fingers were grasping at his wrist and lifting him to his feet. "Thanks. So, uhm... is there a _reason_ that we're in the Mindscape, right now?"

Bill hummed out a long note, wobbling Pine Tree back and forth by the wrist like an overcooked noodle. He cackled over the protests for a few moments, before he cleared his throat. "Do I really need a reason to drag you here? Other than the fact that I couldn't get you in here while you were in the hospital, that is." He released Pine Tree's wrist once the tugging became insistent enough, and used his now empty hand to snap his fingers and produce a sinfully comfortable loveseat. "Let's sit and chat for a while, Pine Tree. Been awhile since we've done that." He raised an eyebrow at the look of disgust on Pine Tree's face, before glancing back at the loveseat, which was composed entirely of severed pig's heads. "Oh, fine." He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers again, producing a completely normal and boring loveseat that wasn't made of any animal heads at all. "Better?"

"Much better, thank you." Dipper produced as radiant a smile as he could manage, though it felt more like a tentative grimace. Close enough. He settled against one arm of the loveseat, not bothering to react in surprise when Bill pulled him so close that he was practically sitting on top of the demon. "What's the point of a loveseat if we don't even use the whole thing?"

"You're an upper crust now, Pine Tree! You gotta get used to being tastefully excessive." Bill snapped his fingers and stretched the loveseat all the way to the far wall, before humming in thought and making it curve up the wall and onto the ceiling as well. "See? Now THAT'S a status symbol."

"Pretty sure that's a symbol of poor carpentry," Dipper mumbled through the much more sincere smile that settled on his lips. He leaned into Bill's shoulder, relieved to have a moment to relax. The past week had certainly been.. stressful wasn't a strong enough word. And things would probably just get worse as time went on. So he'd simply take this time to pretend that everything was alright. It was therapeutic, he told himself, and not at all delusional. He focused on the gentle puffs of breath that left the being he sat beside, and attempted to sync up their breathing patterns.

Bill stared curiously down at his Pine Tree, taking note of the way he seemed to be applying a healthy dose of his attention just to breathing. If there was one thing Bill knew he could say for certain about human bodies, it's that they were perfectly capable of breathing on their own. He watched for a few moments longer, just to see if Pine Tree was going to breathe fire, or something. When it became clear that nothing so spectacular would occur, he decided to speak up. "So uh, as much fun as I'm having sitting here in silence, it's actually completely awful. Say, I've got an idea that I totally just thought up on the spot and hadn't planned out! Let's go to my Mindscape!" Bill grinned in a manner that was supposedly encouraging, but appeared more ravenous than anything.

"Can't you just bring your Mindscape here, like you did before?" Dipper leaned further into his living space heater, unable to quash the niggling tendril of curiosity regarding Bill's Mindscape. Even constrained by human limits, what Dipper had seen of his Mindscape had been massive. He couldn't even imagine what the Mindscape of an all powerful Bill Cipher would look like.

"That was just a pale imitation of my Mindscape, Pine Tree. It wasn't the real deal, either. Just a mental reconstruction of it. Like a scale model, if you will. The real thing is a heck of a lot swankier. So whaddya say, Pine Tree? Ready for a trip to Casa del Bill?" The demon flashed a winning grin, the sort that would irreversibly scar any small child that caught a glimpse of it.

"I guess that'd be alright. If we have enough time to visit, at least.." Dipper glanced down at his hands just to reaffirm their solidity, before he found two larger hands grasping at them. He stared up at the towering demon, tiny motes of nervousness sparking in his stomach. "So do I have to close my eyes, or somethi-" In a moment just barely longer than an instant, the world snapped out of place like a dislocated joint, swathes of gray crunching together before they were stretched outwards into brilliant color. Dipper released a startled gasp, stumbling on slick marble flooring before Bill managed to catch him.

"Try not to take any tumbles. I only have so many of those!" Bill cackled uproariously at his own joke, and Dipper would have been groaning were he not openly marvelling at his surroundings. He stood in a monumental foyer, slick triangles of marble flooring shining nearly black underfoot, so polished that they reflected the swirling purple cosmos above. Twisted spires of bizarre architecture stretched up to touch the distant stars, each pillar composed of stones that twinkled as if containing their own galaxies. Slats of granite hung suspended in mid air, spiraling up to lead to furniture sets that defied gravity as well. Patio sets and living room furnishings and a gaggle of furniture that appeared to be composed entirely of flocks of cockatiels all floated aimlessly through the open air. Strings of musical notation slithered through the air like water serpents, and Dipper could hear faint music when he focused on them long enough. They seemed to be following a predetermined circuit, twisting through the room from one location before retreating to another.

Dipper stepped back in surprise as a carving of the Eye of Providence went spiraling past his face, and he turned an incredulous look on Bill, who appeared to be admiring it. "This is... amazing." What he'd meant to say was 'surprisingly free of corpses', but he supposed they were both similar descriptors. "..How is it in color?" he wondered aloud, utterly taken aback by the sheer visual feedback he was receiving. Everything was sharply defined and brilliantly vibrant, so unlike the muddled greys of his own Mindscape.

"I'm the Master of the Mind, Pine Tree. My Mindscape works a little bit differently than others." Bill looped an arm around the human's, and began dragging him towards a familiar spiralling staircase. They ascended in moments, Bill's steady stride making up for Dipper's awkward stumbling. Bill approached the door to his study, and then abruptly turned left, towards a door that Dipper was sure hadn't existed before. "There's uh, somewhere I wanted to take you. Hope you don't mind!" Bill fumbled through his pocket for a moment, before laughing and snapping his fingers to produce an ornate key, with a triangular grip. He inserted it into the door's lock, and gave it a hard twist.

"..Why didn't you just will the door open?" Dipper questioned absently, hearing Bill mutter something about 'decorum' before he tossed the door open with a flourish. Inside was... a bedroom. A surprisingly normal one, at that. There was a four poster bed with yellow coverings and black pillows, each of them decorated with little gold triangles. A standing lamp was nestled in the corner, and gave off a soft orange light. There was a blackwood vanity set shoved against the far wall that looked straight out of the nineteenth century, and in the corner across from it was a small, fully stocked bookshelf and an oversized beanbag chair. The carpet underfoot was black, and disgustingly soft under Dipper's bare feet. He glanced at a door set into one of the walls, which he presumed led into either a bathroom or a closet. Why Bill would need either, he wasn't sure. "..Looks comfortable," he said at last, unsure of what he was supposed to be looking at.

Bill deflated slightly at the underwhelming response, before immediately forcing himself to perk back up. "It sure is! My home away from home, as it were. A good place to just-get away from it all, you know? The whole... 'being trapped in the Nightmare Realm' thing, and all." He slipped out of his shoes before entering the room, and tossed them carelessly over the balcony behind him. "I ah... like to keep this place mellow, you know? As nice as organ lamps and screaming wolf heads are, they get a little grating after a few billion years."

"I never imagined you'd get tired of anything as grotesque as that." Dipper cautiously approached the bed, noticing for the first time that the bedspread was rumpled, as if someone had hastily attempted to make the bed. "Did you... spend a lot of time in here?"

"As much as feasibly possible!" Bill chirped, expression strained. "There's only so much to see in the Nightmare Realm, you know, and only so many humans to make deals with. So when I had downtime... I spent it here! Mostly because I had nothing better to do." He pulled Pine Tree onto the bed beside him, flopping back against the spongy mattress. "I'd just.. listen to inanimate objects scream in terror, or play music, or create more portraits of myself. With the power of the mind at my fingertips, the possibilities were virtually endless! Unless you had a trillion years to grind down, I guess."

"You were lonely." Dipper stated it as a fact, one tinged with sadness and empathy. He turned to tuck himself under the demon's arm, any reservations he'd had in the past about being close to the abominable form of Bill Cipher having long since dissolved.

"Not exactly. At least, that's not how I saw it back then. I wasn't... I didn't FEEL loneliness. Not like I would now. I was just bored, really, and had nothing else to do. I wasn't... unhappy. As if I was even happy to begin with," Bill scoffed bitterly. "Emotions as a demon are... an afterthought, really. Something goes your way, you laugh about it. Something goes wrong, you yell about it. It wasn't much more complicated then that. Human emotions... are much more complex than I gave them credit for. It's impressive how many different ways you can feel terrible about the same thing."

"Do you miss being a proper demon?" Dipper desperately hoped the answer was in the negative. He sank into Bill's warmth, finding the rigid press of ribs through the multiple layers of Bill's suit to be almost soothing.

"Well, not feeling terrible sure was nice. But feeling GOOD about things is even better." Bill wrinkled his nose, appearing unsure of how to put his thoughts into words. "If I didn't feel anything, I wouldn't have any capacity to miss my emotions, you know? But right now... I think they're pretty alright. Better than the alternative. What about you, Pine Tree? Do you prefer your dashing monstrosity, or the eligible young triangle on the prowl?" He grinned at the huff of laughter he earned, and wrapped an arm around bony shoulders.

"I definitely prefer it when you aren't throwing screaming heads at me or trying to destroy the world." Dipper pressed his face against a flat pectoral, and hummed lightly. "I also like you a lot better when I can feel you, and you can feel me. When we can... be close, and both feel good about it," he explained awkwardly, feeling heat rise to his face at his own verbal fumblings. He'd never been very good at talking about anything to do with emotions, especially those involving other people.

"As verbose and eloquent as ever, dear Pine Tree. But I understand what you're trying to say. Better for both of us to have a wide range of emotions, than for one of us to be miserable and the other to not feel anything." Bill pulled the human entirely atop him, drinking in the little noise of surprise his actions produced. He pressed his nose into tangled locks, and devoured the scent of cheap shampoo and rotting wood. "I don't know if I can make you happy, Pine Tree...

"But I'll make everything better." 


	56. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content in this chapter.

Dipper wasn't sure what changed first. There was simply a sudden shift, during the moment where Bill's words dulled against the open air, and Dipper inhaled the bitter, rusty scent of coagulation and the must of ancient tomes. The air became charged with liquid lightning, and Dipper felt every muscle and nerve twitch at once. Maybe he couldn't be happy.. but he could be _better_. He leaned up to nudge against a face set in contemplation, earning a flickered glance from gold and geometry. "Can you make me feel better, Bill?" Without intending it to do so, his voice had fallen, low and shy. He flushed at the sight of a widening pupil, its inky depths glinting with galactic light.

"Yeah. I think I can manage that." Bill's voice was thick with ravenous hunger, and it sent Dipper's skin crawling in the most horrendously pleasant manner. The demon nosed at the side of his face, hot breaths washing over faint stubble. A slithering tongue ran down the line of Dipper's cheekbone, and a pair of grasping hands slid up his shirt to paw at what little flesh existed on his torso. Numerous fingers fanned out to cover the widest possible swathes of skin, leaving an ocean of nerves to tingle just below the epidermis. They carefully lifted the fabric, whisper soft as it was bunched around Dipper's armpits to reveal his sunken torso. "What do you want me to do, Pine Tree?" Dipper could feel a digit pressing down, the tip of a nail digging inwards to produce a painless puncture. It was an offer.

Dipper bit his lip as he carefully considered Bill's inquiry. Last time, he'd been... not entirely present. But he could remember faintly the absolute bliss of the nauseating ritual. Maybe it was time for a lucid repeat. He nodded shallowly under Bill's searching gaze, and released a sharp gasp when that prodding finger sank inwards, up to the first of four knuckles. He could feel fibers tearing and blood pooling, but there wasn't even the suggestion of pain. Only sweet sensory data trickled into his brain. "M...more, please."

How could Bill possibly resist such a sweetly spoken request? Foregoing all pretenses of gentleness, he shanked his entire finger into Pine Tree's torso, relishing in the soft little cry that it produced. After a moment of thought he reversed their positions, reverently lying Pine Tree out on his bedspread while Bill hovered over him, gazing in wonder at the finger sized wound that was quickly filling with blood. "You're gorgeous, Pine Tree. Already leaking for me..." He donned a vicious grin as red crawled into his human's pallid face, and wanted nothing more than to devour the embarrassment that lived in his expression. "You don't have to look so bashful, Pine Tree," Bill crooned like a dying elk. "It's just you and me, after all."

"Y-you can't... say stuff like that," Dipper mumbled, already sounding breathy. He uttered a quick exhale as Bill's finger delved back into the wound, pulling it wider and wider. The sensation was so alien, the painless damage to his flesh so visceral and oddly pleasurable that he wasn't sure how to handle it. His shorts were becoming slightly uncomfortable.

"Stuff like what?" Bill cocked his head, playing oblivious as he gently traced the rim of the wound. "Stuff like how you're so wet for me that I can't even see inside of you?" His grin creaked as his Pine Tree produced a paltry little whine, turning his face into the pillows. "C'mon, keep looking. I want you to see when I'm wrist deep in you." Bill dug the end of a nail into the edge of the wound, and pulled up, up, up, until there was a weeping slice torn all the way up from Pine Tree's navel to his sternum. He used all sixteen fingers to begin deepening the crevice, sawing back and forth to erode a fleshy canyon that eventually broke into Pine Tree's chest cavity. "You might want your shirt off for this," Bill commented casually over Pine Tree's delicate little cries and pleas.

"Y-yeah-" Dipper blurted, trying to regain a sense of himself after the monumental surge of sensory data that had momentarily overwhelmed him. He shucked off his shirt and tossed it aside, careful not to jostle his torso too much. He glanced down at the sight of his chest, coated in blood and beginning to gape open. Horror and nausea should have been his first response, but all he felt was a pulse of arousal and a flare of bashfulness. Something was horribly wrong with him, and he didn't much care at the moment. "I-I want to see all of it."

"You and me both!" Bill flexed his fingers before sinking them into random patches of Pine Tree's chest, digging into the flesh before tearing away whole chunks. Sharp little exclamations provided a delicious backdrop to the process, and before long only strings of tattered flesh hanging off of dull white ribs remained to obfuscate the array of organs within. Bill swallowed a breath, shifting his lower half uncomfortably. He always managed to forget how constraining dress slacks really were. "Look at you, wide open for me... how scandalous." Bill managed a chuckle in place of a groan, and began lightly tracing the wet exterior of Pine Tree's liver. "Where should I start? Should I be gentle?"

"Y..yeah. Just touching," Dipper breathed, swallowing heavily at the sensation of fingertips brushing something that wasn't ever supposed to experience touch. His own hands twitched at his sides, but he knew he couldn't touch himself. It would make everything too real, would break the heady, dreamy haze that had settled over him. He gasped out a sound that could only be described as a moan when Bill began sliding blood slicked digits between clusters of organs.

Bill was careful not to dislodge anything, feeling unduly charmed by the chaotically organized picture in front of him. Human anatomy had always been equally disgusting and fascinating to him. But when it belonged to his Pine Tree... Bill found himself utterly enraptured. He dragged his fingertips across the surface of a lightly convulsing stomach, drinking in the sight of it undulating from the pressure. He reluctantly pulled a hand away from its organic treasures to begin spreading Pine Tree's legs, so that Bill could slide between them and grant himself easier access. He jammed a thigh into the crevice between Pine Tree's legs, feeling something warm stirring to life behind layers of fabric. That was an organ that Bill knew was MADE to be played with. "I can't believe how soaked you are," Bill purred like a garbage disposal, dancing his digits across a multitude of bloodied organs. He shivered in delight at the sound of a pathetic mewl, and cradled a gallbladder in his palm. "What do you want me to do, Pine Tree?" He began dragging his thigh back and forth, earning a choked utterance of his name. "Use your words! Don't forget to sound it out if you have to."

"S-such a jerk," Dipper panted, canting his hips against a teasing thigh. He groaned in frustration when it pulled away, and his planned movement to begin unbuttoning his shorts was interrupted by a tentative squeeze of his appendix. His next complaint was aborted by an embarrassingly breathy moan as the heel of a hand was ground against his most external organ, the sensation dizzying even when buffered by layers of cloth. "I.. want you to feel good with me," he managed, a fraction of the little blood that remained within him crawling up his cheeks and settling at the tips of his ears.

"I can DEFINITELY manage that." Bill's grin stretched nearly behind his head, and Dipper was transfixed by the legion of needles that had been revealed. He rocked up into Bill's leg, heaving a short breath as he was assaulted by precious friction. "So eager, little Pine Tree." Bill's tone was almost praising. He reached down and began undoing the fastenings of Pine Tree's shorts, ripping away the offending fabric and leaving his beautiful cadaver entirely bare. Bill merely willed away his own slacks, and connected his hips to Pine Tree's in a bruising grind. Both their voices rang out with noises of pleasure, Dipper's hands shakily sliding up Bill's legs to grasp his hips underneath his tailcoat, and Bill's deformed appendages grasping at a pair of sturdy ribs to use as handholds.

Their movements were stiff and awkward to begin with, but as the instinctual drive for release set in they adopted a frantic, fluid rhythm. Dipper whined out short little breaths with each upstroke, digging his fingers into Bill's hips with what little strength he actually had. It was apparently enough to cause some sort of pain, if Bill's brief, airy giggles were any indication. Dipper's focus drifted hazily between the almost burning friction between his legs, and the visage of terror that loomed over him. Bill's face was a mask of pleasure, his triangular pupil whirling chaotically in its socket and his ring of gold swallowed almost completely by an engorged pupil. But what drew Dipper's gaze most powerfully was his teeth. Long needles of enamel, shining and slick with saliva, flashing behind parted lips. Dipper knew what he wanted. "Bite me," he gasped out, eyes glued to the glossy sawblades in Bill's mouth.

"Your wish is my command," Bill simpered breathlessly, wasting no time in latching onto the meatiest part of Pine Tree's upper arm. His teeth tore through skin, fat, and muscle like wet paper, digging all the way in to scrape against bone. Bill moaned in euphoria around a mouthful of sweet flesh, a shiver wracking his frame as Pine Tree cried out beneath him, and painted his internals with procreative fluids. After a few frantic moments of rutting like the meat animal he had become, Bill followed shortly behind, dark fires sparking and fizzing in the back of his head and the pit of his stomach. He pulled away with his mouthful as he was rocked with aftershocks, swallowing the hunk of flesh reflexively.

He panted as the rush of endorphins tapered off, and stared in wonder at the picture painted below him. His Pine Tree, hair mussed and sweaty, cheeks flushed with blood and lips wet with saliva. His eyes were black holes, thin circles of brown containing the darkness within them. He glanced at the dull white of exposed humerus, and the ragged, bleeding flesh that surrounded it. His gaze trickled down to the blood soaked, glistening organs of Pine Tree's open chest cavity, pearls of milky white now mingling with lifeblood. "An absolute vision," Bill praised, leaning in to capture chapped lips with his own, yawning maw.

Dipper whimpered in exhaustion, eyes flickering shut even as familiar lips assaulted his mouth. He lazily pressed back into the kiss, an odd shiver running through him as he tasted his own meat on Bill's lips. "W-we should probably wake up," he mumbled, once he was given a moment to breathe.

"Unfortunately, you're probably right about that. Can't keep you in here forever, as much as I'd like to." Bill's expression was unreadable for a moment, before he adopted his typical face eating grin. "We'll have to repeat this once we have a little more downtime." He cackled at the embarrassment that flashed over Pine Tree's face, endlessly amused by the human's ability to become flustered at the drop of a hat. But, there were more important things to worry about at the moment. "Welp, see you in the morning!" He snapped his fingers to end their Mindscape session-

"Morning!" Bill hollered at maximum volume as his eyes snapped open, leaping to his feet and.. banging his head? "Wait what's goin' on here." He glanced around suspiciously, only to find himself in the back of Pine Tree's vehicle, with Sixer in the driver's seat and Fez staring back at him in agitation from the passenger's seat.

"I'd call you an obnoxious morning person, but it's two in the afternoon. You n' Dipper were sleepin' so hard we had to carry you into the car. Thanks for that, by the way," Stan gruffed, glaring down the demon in human clothing.

"Need I remind you whom it was that actually had to carry a seven foot monstrosity?" Ford grouched with equal annoyance. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing back at the backseat passengers through the rearview mirror.

"Grunkle Ford..?" Dipper slurred as his eyes creaked open, having somehow managed to avoid being awoken by Bill's screaming. "Are you... driving?" He sat up from where he'd been slumped in his seat, drooping eyes attempting to widen in alarm. "This better not end up like the last time."

"Look, we didn't actually _fall_ off of the cliff," Ford began in a defensive tone. "And I'd have thought that you, of all people, would understand my actions that day, considering the cycloptopus in the treeline! It was an opportunity I couldn't afford to miss!"

Dipper replied at a slightly louder volume to be heard over Bill's snickering. "We could've at least parked on the side of the road! You didn't have to veer into the woods after it!"

"A cycloptopus can reach a top speed of approximately sixty three point two kilometers per hour," Ford stressed. "There was no way we could have caught it on foot after startling it with the vehicle!"

"What exactly were you planning to do _with_ the vehicle? Run it over? And don't you _even_ start with your 'value of a dead specimen'-"

Bill leaned back in his seat, sighing a pleased breath as the sounds of the argument washed over him. He glanced out the back window, through which he could see a distant column of black smoke rising into the air. A twisted grin oozed onto his face, and he huffed a laugh.

"I can already tell this is going to be a WONDERFUL time." 


	57. Red

The world was awash with color. The dark, hardy greens of pine needles, the dull, earthy reds of redwoods, the darkening blue of the afternoon sky, visible only directly overhead. Dipper was left with a quiet pit in his gut, one that stirred with long abandoned longing. The forests of Oregon stared him down through a thin shield of glass, beckoning him and welcoming his arrival. Celebrating his return to where he had always thought he belonged. Gravity Falls. Home.

"Boy, I SURE am EXCITED to be getting back to the most BACKWATER town to EVER be located at one of the largest magical hotspots in the world! Oh wait, no I'm not!" Bill's piercing voice shattered Dipper's quiet reverie, in part due to its incredibly close proximity. Dipper glanced away from the window, only to let out a startled yell when he found Bill's face directly next to his own. "At least THAT never gets old!"

"Keep it down, would ya? I ain't deaf yet, and I don't have any plans to be in the near future," Stan grunted, attempting to read a copy of 'Foppish Fallacies and Frabjulations', which was the only reading material that had been available at the last gas station they'd stopped at. He still had no idea what it was about.

"What, and just let you two old geezers stink the place up with your boring fumes? If you won't even turn on the radio, then it falls to ME to liven things up! Oh, if only I had a piano, or a choir, orabsoluteunquestionablepowerwithwhichtotwistrealitytomyeverywhim," Bill coughed. He grinned innocently at the stern look Ford sent him through the rearview mirror, and saw the man shudder. "If I had those things, you guys'd be in for a BLAST. But since we don't..." Bill leaned forward in his seat, pretending to be unable to reach the radio despite the freakish length of his arms. "You just gotta let me turn on the radio, Sixer, you just GOTTA!"

Ford sighed in exasperation, reluctantly removing a hand from the steering wheel to click on the radio. "It can't possibly be any more disruptive than you're acting at the moment." He winced as the first station that he happened upon proved to be loud punk rock. "I stand corrected."

"Wonderful choice, Sixer! If you change it, you won't be able to keep that nickname for long." Bill grinned in a manner that showed off all of his teeth.

"It's better than what he normally listens to, at least?" Dipper offered tentatively, able to very clearly recall the normal screeching and roaring that blasted from his speakers. In comparison, he found the punk... _almost_ better.

"'Least we're almost there," Stan groaned, part of him hoping he could go deaf just a _little_ bit sooner. "Can't wait to be back in my own bed."

Ford immediately cut in to quash Stan's spirits. "Yes, well, I'm afraid we'll have very little time for leisure, Stanley. Our.. demonic issue is still quite pressing, after all. But you're right; it will be a pleasant change of pace, to be amongst familiar surroundings again. And of course, having the time and equipment for proper research is always a plus."

"Hey, uh... Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford? I.." Dipper trailed off, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He really wasn't sure how to phrase his question without dredging up something heavy and terrible; the weight of a corpse, to be exact. But he had to bite the bullet eventually. It wouldn't do to have anything unfortunate happen. Although... the cloying discomfort in his chest was doing an admirable job of convincing him to postpone his questioning. "N-never mind. It can wait until we get there, I guess."

"Well, we won't be waitin' long," Stan pointed out, just as they cruised by the old, worn 'Welcome to Gravity Falls!' sign. There was an instant change in the atmosphere; subtle but easily felt. Everything seemed... a little warmer, a little more electrically charged. Dipper felt as though he were standing on steady ground, despite being in a moving vehicle. A cool calm settled in a thin layer over the constant, buzzing panic that gnawed at the back of his mind. Maybe things really would be okay, now that he was back. Maybe everything would be alright.

Ford pulled up through a dirt trail roughly ten minutes later, passing through a thicket of woods before emerging into a clearing, which held within it a building that meant something different to everyone in the vehicle. A place of learning, discovery, betrayal. A building crammed with memories, some fond and others bitter. The site of failure, and one that would hopefully lead to new victories. Home.

The vehicle was plunged into quiet as the radio was clicked off, each head turned to stare through panes of glass at the Mystery Shack. It was as dilapidated and run down as it had ever been, though perhaps a little more faded than it had been in years previous. The mere sight of it had Dipper's heart aching for simpler times, when all he had to worry about was running from supernatural horrors with Mabel at his side and his friends and Grunkles in his corner. But everything was... He shook his head and opened his door, the first one to exit the vehicle. Bill was hot on his heels, slipping out through his door and slamming it shut. Twin echoes sounded from the front, and there was a brief, awkward silence.

"...Guess we should get everything in, huh?" Stan cracked his back with a grunt, circling around to open the trunk and begin unloading bags. "Sixer, freak, come give me a hand with these."

"Sure thing, Fez! Let me help you with that!" Bill's grin curved like the blade of a scythe, and he yanked the bag Stan was holding out of his hands with enough force to send the old man stumbling. He straightened up with a heated glare, and opened his mouth to-

"Please don't fight," Dipper breathed, more tired than pleading. "Let's just... get everything inside, and go to sleep. It's been a long day." He moved to begin helping with the luggage, only for Ford to gently ease him out of the way.

"You should leave the bags to us. You're only a few days out of the hospital, after all," Ford explained in as kindly a tone as he could manage. It didn't come off too painfully condescending, so he considered it a minor victory. He hefted a suitcase with a grunt, and made room for Stan and Bill to grab the remainder.

Dipper mumbled under his breath, staring at the backpack containing his electronics. He listlessly removed it from the trunk and eased the straps over his shoulders, before straining to slam the trunk itself shut. He glanced around the side of the car to find the others all gathered on the porch, in the middle of entering the building. Ford glanced back at him, concern lining his brow. "Dipper? Are you coming?"

"Yeah, I... I'll just be a minute," he called back weakly. "Just show Bill upstairs, I guess." He waved Ford off when the look of concern persisted, and turned away as the screen door slammed shut. He could faintly hear Bill's cackling laughter before it tapered off.

Dipper sighed out a heavy breath, gently setting his bag on the ground and struggling to climb up on top of his car. He eventually managed to make it onto the roof without slipping, and laid flat on his back to stare at the sky. Surprisingly, Bill had been right about how comfortable it was. He stared up and up at powder blue, obfuscated in patches by wisps of fairy floss clouds. The scent of the forest flooded his olfactory senses, colored with something tingling that he now knew to be the scent of raw, unfiltered magic. It permeated every inch of the Gravity Falls valley, charging everything with a life that couldn't be found anywhere else on Earth. It made him feel... not good, but.. better.

Dipper groaned after several long minutes of rooftop lounging, turning onto his side in a position that proved to be significantly less comforting. He began trying to formulate a plan to climb down without injuring himself, only to catch sight of something on the dirt trail that lead into town. Red hair. Dipper's heart just about imploded into a mess of pulp, and he fumbled frantically to sit up. He slipped against the slick roof of his vehicle, and slid off the side with a startled shout. Dipper groaned into his faceful of dirt, fingers twitching with the feeble need to pick himself back up.

"Dipper? Dipper, is that you?!" Wendy. It had to be her, there was no possible way he could mistake that voice, one he'd had trapped inside his head for the better part of two months after he'd first heard it, one that belonged to someone he (still?) considered one of his few close friends. His pulped heart lodged in his throat, and he struggled to sit upright. His head swam drunkenly, eyes rattling in their sockets as he shook it to regain his bearings. When his vision focused once more, he found himself staring into a face that was as familiar as breathing. Wendy Corduroy. "Dude, are you okay? What the heck were you doing on top of your car?"

"U-uh.." He watched a hand enter his field of view, staring at it for a short moment before he took it in his own. She pulled him to his feet with little effort, and he mumbled something that might've been his thanks. "W-Wendy, I didn't... expect to see you. So soon," he amended. What was he supposed to _say_ -

"Dude, I wasn't sure I'd see you at _all_ ,"she countered, a wry smile on her face. Familiar freckles and faintly crooked teeth that contributed to radiant grins and years of maturity that had smoothed away her more adolescent features- She blinked at him when he didn't respond, eyes widening imperceptibly as she looked him over. "Whoa, no offense man, but you look _awful_. Are you alright?"

Dipper fell back a step, wrapping his arms around himself self-consciously. "Y-yeah, just... haven't been sleeping well. That's all. So ah-what are you... doing here?" What could he do should he get Stan and Ford he couldn't explain everything on his own could he but if he brought her inside she'd see Bill and he'd have to explain _more_ but she'd probably be around enough to meet him _anyway_ so was there really any point in delaying the inevitable-

"Hey, Earth to Dip!" Wendy waved a hand in his face, concern darkening her eyes. "I said that I got here when summer started, like always. The Stans said you and Mabel hadn't shown up, so they said they were gonna go find out why. Are you sure you're okay? Did you hit your head on the way down, or something?"

"No, no! I just.." Dipper heaved a shaking breath, and drooped like a soaked leaf. "I've got a lot on my mind. Maybe... maybeyoushouldcomeinside," he choked out, and regretted it immediately. There was no taking that back. He had to stick with his poorly made decisions. He read the thinly veiled confusion on Wendy's face, and tried for a smile. It came out surprisingly well formed, compared to his usual ones, and she relaxed marginally. "Let's just... go in, and I can explain everything." Part of him would much rather make Stan and Ford do it, but he couldn't keep placing his burdens on them. They didn't deserve that from their useless screw-up of a nephew.

"Yeah, that works. I always forget how hot it gets down here in summer; guess Seattle weather'll do that to you, huh?" Wendy kept up a short burst of one sided small talk on the short walk into the gift shop, which was still fully stocked. None of them had had the heart to dismantle the Mystery Shack's attractions, so everything was left the way it had been the day it finally closed down. Dipper's heart ached at the sight of a tiny bobblehead, depicting Soos as Mr. Mystery. Explaining this the first time would be hard enough. He strained to listen for any other signs of life, and faintly heard Stan and Ford speaking in low tones in the other room. The walls had always been pretty thin.

"So, uhm..." Dipper cleared his throat of the shards of glass that had gathered in it, and smiled much more unsurely up at Wendy. After all these years, she still had at least two inches on him. "I... sorry, I'm just really not sure where to start with all of this. So much happened, a-and everything's different now, and I don't know what I'm doing I'm just afraid I'll ruin everything again if I even breathe wrong and why wouldn't I do _that_ wrong after everything else I've messed up and-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, Dipper, calm down, man. Just breathe for a second, okay?" Wendy placed a careful hand on his shoulder, and it provided a solid (if paltry) anchor for him to latch onto. He sucked in a sharp breath, held it in his chest, and released it in as controlled a manner as he could manage. "Yeah, just like that. Just breathe." He continued his long ingrained pattern of calming breaths, and felt the screaming buzz in his chest slowly die down into a murmur. "Okay, let's just start simple. Where is Mabel?"

His entire world turned to dust. It buried him up to his neck and crushed his insides with a monumental weight, leaving him gasping and choking around mouthfuls of his own failures. There was no getting away. There was no pretending. There was no postponing. He didn't have a choice anymore.

"Mabel.. she's dead."


	58. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that it really means a lot to me to get comments and kudos from you guys. It helps keep me going, and helps me keep writing this story. So.. thanks.

The moment the words left his lips, Dipper felt as though his skin were peeling off his bones, his organs compacting together into mush, his dead heart rotting away into sludge. He caught a glimpse of Wendy's stricken disbelief before he had to close his eyes, lest they boil right out of their sockets. "Sh-she's dead. She has been, for a few months now." Explanations disingenuous he couldn't possibly tell the truth Bill might _kill_ her he had to  _lie_ \- "There was... a break-in. A struggle. She didn't-they.. w-we still don't know who it was. The funeral-I'm sorry, we just-it was only family." Funeral what a joke he couldn't even bury his own sister she just rotted somewhere like he was now, like he _deserved_ \- "I'm sorry, I'm sorry you have to find out now, I'm so sorry-"

A sob broke his words, and it took a moment for him to realize it was his own. He blinked open eyes flooded with tears, only to find glistening streaks running down Wendy's face. "Sorry? You're _sorry_? Oh god, Dipper, I can't... I can't even imagine what you're going through." She was embracing him in the next breath, a crushing grip that shook with the force of his own sorrow. "I can't believe... I'm the one that should be apologizing. I should've been there for you."

He wanted so badly to rip away from her, to bellow at her that it was _his_ fault, he might as well have killed her himself, but he couldn't. He was already ensnared in his own lies. "It's okay," he choked out, struggling to reign in his ugly sobbing. "You didn't know. I should've told you earlier, but I... I was terrified."

"Dipper..." Her voice was thick with emotion, and she tightened her embrace. "You don't need to be afraid of me. I understand why you'd wait. Everybody needs time after... after losing someone. But I'm here for you now, okay? I'll always be here for you." Sincerity dripped from her as steadily as her tears, and it stung Dipper like acid. He didn't _deserve_ it.

"T-thanks," he sniffled, disgusted with his own pathetic state. He gently extracted himself from Wendy's grip, and blinked away tears that clung stubbornly to his lashes. "I think I just.. need a little time alone, right now. It's been a long drive, and..." He trailed off, as desperate to make her go away as he was to have her stay. But it was dangerous here, for her. If she ever found out the truth... he wasn't sure he could protect her from Bill. It was better if she never came back ever again, but that wasn't likely to happen. He'd just have to be careful. Dipper plastered on a weak smile, and Wendy returned it with an understanding one.

"I totally get it, dude. I'm sure you're worn out." Wendy leaned in to give him a reassuring squeeze around the shoulders, before pulling away with a smile that was just as breathtaking as he remembered. "I could come back around tomorrow afternoon, if that's alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's alright." Enough time to bring everyone up to speed with his deplorable lies, and come up with some sort of cover story for Bill. "I, uhm.. I'll see you then. I-It was good seeing you again, too."

"Yeah, same here." Wendy's smile dimmed in radiance, becoming something softer, sadder. "If you ever need anything, just let me know, okay? I meant it when I said I'll be here for you, man." She patted him on the shoulder as he nodded shallowly, giving him one last, searching look before she turned to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Y-yeah. See you then," Dipper sent her off weakly, standing alone in the middle of the gift shop long after the bell above the door had ceased ringing. He collapsed to the floor a moment later, in a less than controlled fall. It apparently caused enough of a ruckus to bring Stan and Ford running in from the other room, the scientist clutching some sort of pistol that he'd likely made himself and the con man raising brass knuckle clad fists. "..Hey," Dipper greeted them tepidly, after a brief moment of silence. What followed was muffled thudding, and then a series of rapid footsteps before Bill burst into the gift shop, his clothes rumpled and blood dripping from a line of split skin on his brow.

"I FELL DOWN THE STAIRS BUT IT'S OKAY IT WAS REALLY FUN-" Bill ground to a halt in front of Stan and Ford, golden gaze flickering between them and the Pine Tree on the floor. "...Did I miss something?"

"I just tripped, is all," Dipper explained, beginning to shakily rise to his feet. He squeaked as unnaturally long arms scooped him right up off of the floor before placing him upright, and he muttered his thanks. "I, ah... Wendy, was here."

"Corduroy?" Stan questioned needlessly, glancing askew at his twin. "Figures she'd show up. Was houndin' us the whole time we were here, askin' about you and Mabel." An unreadable expression passed over his face like a fleeting shadow, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived. "I'm guessin' she asked about your sister, huh?"

"Y-yeah.. I just..." Dipper bit at his lip, trying to rub away a sore spot on his shoulder. He'd likely have a purpling bruise there before long. "I lied to her. I told her someone broke into Mabel's house and... and we don't know who it is. I told her the funeral was family only."

"An unfortunate necessity, but a well thought out one," Ford began impassionately. "Knowledge of Bill has to be kept between the three of us. We'll require a cover story for him, as well as an easily adjusted to name."

"He's my housemate and his name is William," Dipper suggested. "Simple enough, right?" He met Bill's flat look with a skeptical one of his own. "What? Do you have any better suggestions?"

"Normally I'd suggest something so amazing that your brain would pour out of your eye sockets, but at the moment I'm too overwhelmed by how utterly boring you are." Bill heaved a long suffering sigh and placed the back of his hand against his forehead, smearing it with blood. "But if I must, I shall play my role well! William Alvah, professional housemate of Dipper Pines!"

"I'm pretty sure 'housemate' isn't a profession," Dipper corrected, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

"A fitting name for something like you," Ford muttered, staring flatly at the 'charming' grin Bill sent his way. "Regardless, we should begin preparing the means to banish this demon posthaste. There are a few ingredients I still require, some of which are a touch... unsavory. I'll be bringing Stanley and... Bill, along with me to track down the necessary materials. Dipper, I'll need you for the.." Ford attempted to find a phrase that wouldn't be demeaning, "the technical work. You'll be responsible for cataloguing the ingredients, as well as the bulk of the arcane work. Salt lines, wards, and spellweaving primarily. To begin, we'll need to-"

"Grunkle Ford? As.. infectious as your enthusiasm is," Dipper began, sounding distinctly unenthused, "it's been a really long drive, and I'm exhausted. And we should probably prioritize groceries over arcane ingredients, at least for right now."

Ford was stricken into silence for a long moment, before a proud grin formed on his face. "Ah, good thinking. Very pragmatic of you! Yes, I believe we all require some rest before preparations can truly begin. And the spells you'll be working with are very volatile, so we'll need you at peak mental capacity to work on them." He remained oblivious to Stan's groan and the way Dipper's face drained of what little color it had contained. "As far as food goes.. well, we haven't restocked the vending machine in a few years, but the majority of the items in it have a fairly long shelf life. Other than that, we can reconvene in the morning for a grocery trip." There was a moment of deafening silence, before Ford flashed another smile. "Well, goodnight!"

Stan stood with his face in his hand for a long moment, well after his twin had already exited the room. "I swear, he'd feed you the rats in the walls and give you a lecture on the nutritional value if he had to.. Kid, just order some pizza for the night, or somethin'. I'm goin' to bed." He turned to follow his brother through the door leading into the house portion of the shack, leaving Dipper and Bill alone with one another.

"Well, that sure was a blast from the past!" Bill slung an arm around Dipper's shoulders, nearly toppling him over with the force of the motion. "Fordsie really hasn't changed a bit. Still puttin' his research and studies before his own health. And the health of the people around him! It's almost like he'll never learn from his mistakes. Oh wait, that's EXACTLY what it's like!"

"That's not it," Dipper argued halfheartedly, more for his grunkle's sake than anything else. "He's just... he wants to get rid of this demon as soon as possible, and I can't blame him for that. He just gets a little overzealous about his work, sometimes." He decided to leave out the part where Ford prioritizing work over everything else made him feel like an afterthought.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pine Tree. Oh wait, that'd be me." Bill pulled the human flush against his side, and lowered his voice to a tolerable volume. "Listen, I'm not telling you this to upset you. It's for your own good, Pine Tree! You REALLY think Ford cares about you? And I mean really CARES? He might see you as a bright young mind with a lot of potential, but that's the extent of it. All he cares about, all he's EVER cared about, is knowledge. Why do you think he was stupid enough to trust a random 'muse' that started haunting his dreams out of nowhere? Because he's blinded by his own hubris. He tossed his own twin aside like a sack of trash because he couldn't get into his fancy college, never mind the fact that he was perfectly successful regardless. He spent years studying and researching the mysteries of this hodunk town, for nobody's benefit but his own. And then, after I gave him the knowledge he wanted, helped him achieve his greatest accomplishment, he tore it all away because he didn't want me to use it. He might say it was for the good of humanity, to protect people, but that's all a sham. Fordsie only cares about people that are useful to him." Bill's expression softened into a portrait of almost-humanity, and he stroked a hand through Pine Tree's tangled locks. "I just want to protect you from him, Pine Tree. To make sure you don't get hurt. Because if you continue believing that he loves you... kid, it's gonna hurt when he tosses you aside."

In the dark, hollow cavern of Dipper's chest, something burst into brilliant light. It sparked and fizzed and illuminated something new. Trust. He trusted Bill Cipher not to hurt him. To tell him the truth. Why _would_ Ford care about him? He was useless; a burden. He wasn't a genius. He wasn't an inventor, a researcher, an investigator. He was a failed novelist that had killed his sister. He was worth less than nothing, and there was no way Ford couldn't see that. There was no way any of his friends wouldn't see that, if they knew the truth. If they knew what he'd done. Dipper leaned into Bill's chest, cheek brushing against the soft fibers of a yellow sweatshirt. He could hear something thudding in the chest beneath him, arrhythmic and painfully audible. "I believe you," he whispered, just barely above an exhale.

"I won't let ANYONE hurt you," Bill proclaimed, pressing Pine Tree against his chest. "Not Molta, not Stanford, not ANYBODY. You're MINE." A sizzling heat permeated Bill's chest, an anger directed at the pathetic mongrel of a demon that thought it could hurt his Pine Tree, and anger at himself, for not having the strength to crush that threat with his own hands. There was disgust, as well. He was disgusted with himself for having to rely on Sixer and Fez for protection, and aid in banishing a demon so much lower than himself. But there was only one way he could HAVE the power to handle things on his own, and he didn't have the means to get it. He didn't know if he even WANTED it anymore. It'd tear away everything new he'd learned about himself, all the emotions and thoughts that he'd developed with his human brain.

Unless it didn't HAVE to. Bill's thought patterns erupted like a triggered minefield, blossoms of brilliant color and destruction blooming in droves. All he needed was time, and three little books. But until then.. "C'mon, Pine Tree, let's order some pizza. Do you think they'll have bear liver on the menu?"

"I'm pretty sure they won't," Dipper smiled against Bill's torso, reluctantly pulling away from the demon to begin the trek over to a phone dock. "How about I get you Italian sausage instead?"

"As long as it's made of genuine Italians. I don't want any of that imitation garbage." Bill warmed at the sound of laughter, and knew that what he was going to do was right. He was going to make everything better for his Pine Tree.

He was going to make the WORLD better.


	59. Dream

  
When Dipper awoke in a bed that had served as his refuge for six summers, he became aware of three things. The first was a gnawing, yawning ache in his chest cavity, a hollow place that had once been home to everything warm and bright in his life. That absence wasn't anything new. The second was the cold spot on the mattress beside him, where he knew a warm body had been located the night before. Bill's absence was unexpected. The third was the churning, boiling nausea in his stomach, and Dipper stumbled out of bed towards the bathroom as quickly as he could manage. The absence of his stomach contents was unpleasant, but not surprising. It was likely a terrible idea to have tried Bill's pizza, loaded with as many toppings as could fit onto it. It had been delicious, if sickening, and Dipper wondered faintly if he'd ever be able to properly enjoy food again.

The sound of voices drifted up the stairs, and he winced as one suddenly spiked in volume. Either his grunkles were arguing with one another, or they were arguing with Bill. He wasn't quite sure which scenario would be worse. After thoroughly rinsing his mouth and halfheartedly brushing his teeth, he crept down the stairs at a cautious pace, the voices only continuing to rise in volume. He caught a few snatches of syllables, but whole words and sentences were lost to him. The last step creaked under his foot, and the voices abruptly stopped. He felt like a child again, overhearing arguments between his parents when they thought he and his sister were sleeping. It would be infuriating to be treated like a child again if he weren't so tired.

"G'morning," he mumbled, emerging into the kitchen to the sight of Ford, loitering near the coffee pot. An immediate flare of distrust spiked through him as he vividly recalled Bill's words. He averted his gaze just as Ford turned towards him, and collapsed into a seat at the table. "Stan and Bill were arguing." There was no question about it.

"Unsurprisingly, yes. I couldn't even begin to tell you what it was about. Here, have some coffee." Ford gently set a mug on the table, prompting Dipper to raise his head from where it had been mushed into his folded arms. He accepted the cup of coffee warily, and took a testing sip. He must've made quite the face at the strong, bitter flavor, because Ford winced in (false false a _lie_ ) sympathy. "I'm afraid we don't have any sugar at the moment. Or creamer. Stanley and I weren't in much of a mind to stock up on essentials when we returned to find you and Mabel missing. I'm sure you understand."

"Yeah," Dipper replied shortly, dropping the line of conversation like a venomous snake. An air of awkwardness descended over Ford as the moments stretched on, and he finally muttered something that might've been departing words as he shuffled out of the room. Dipper took advantage of his newfound solitude, glancing around at the familiar kitchen. It was as out-of-date as it had always been, likely a result of Soos being too in love with the rickety old shack to remodel. Dipper's heart clenched at the thought of the man, fearing that he had returned as well.

Only... Soos had a career to think about. Wendy had summer break as an excuse to come back to Gravity Falls. Soos usually saved up two weeks of vacation days to make the trip, but if there was no reason to come, surely he had just gone back to Portland. Dipper's heart settled marginally, and he stared down into the murky depths of his black coffee. Thinking of his sensitive stomach, he decided to leave it in favor of heading into the living room.

The television was on, playing a rerun of something in black and white that Dipper didn't recognize. Stan was seated in his recliner and Bill was sat on the couch, but both were paying rapt attention to whatever was on the television. They didn't even look up as he entered, and he stood awkwardly just within their field of view. "Uh.. good morning?"

"PINE TREE!" Bill chimed, immediately leaping out of his seat as if he had been broken from a trance. "You've GOTTA watch this with us. I never thought human entertainment could be so stupid and pretentious, but also so GRIPPING!" Bill emphasized this by grasping Dipper's shoulders and violently shaking him back and forth.

"We're watching 'The Countess of Hamperipshenfraggle'," Stan grunted in explanation, thumbing the remote to turn up the volume. "And the triangle freak thinks that Bonnibel should end up with Ferdinand, of all people! _Clearly_ Franz is the only one with the compassion and tact to handle her broken heart!"

"He's also a worthless street urchin without a stable career," Bill countered passionately. "At least Ferdinand has riches at his disposal, even if he is a jerk. She can stick with him for a few years before his 'accidental' death, and then she'll get all his money!"

"As fascinating as this is," Dipper interrupted, before the argument could escalate any further, "we really need groceries around here. I looked in the fridge last night, and the only things in there are a box of crackers and a bottle of mayo that expired in nineteen eighty nine." Dipper frowned for a moment, wondering why exactly crackers would be in the fridge in the first place. "Anyway, if we're going to be here a while, real food would be nice."

"Yeah, yeah, Ford and I are gonna handle that in a bit," Stan assured him. "We're leavin' you to watch over Cipher, considerin' we don't trust him not to try and eat somebody."

"I'd call that smart thinking if it hadn't been thought by you and Stanford," Bill chirped cheerily, lips stretching viciously at the clear annoyance on Fez's face. "So that means it'll just be you and me, Pine Tree! Quality bonding time, you know?" Bill very conspicuously lifted his eyepatch so he could wink properly.

"I gave you the list of things I need, right?" Dipper relaxed a smidgen as he received a nod, but the tension was immediately replaced by guilt. "I'll be sure to pay you both back. I could write you a check, or-"

Stan interrupted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Kid, we ain't doin' this to make you owe us anything. Just let Ford and I worry about things, okay? All you need to do right now is recover." There was a softness in Stan's gaze, and Dipper couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. Stan _seemed_ like he really cared, but... but he only cared about the old Dipper. He cared about the one that wasn't a broken mess of depression and self loathing and suicidal impulses. But that Dipper was long gone, and nothing Stan could do would resurrect him.

"Thanks, Grunkle Stan," he muttered as sincerely as he could manage, distrust welling up like tar. His heart ached for his great uncle, who had not only lost a niece, but now had a nephew in arms reach that was still forever apart from him. It'd be better if he didn't even know Dipper existed. Thoughts wriggled through the darkness and latched onto his brain like parasites, and he knew what he needed to do. For their sakes, he had to be forgotten. "Anyway, I should let you... get back to your movie." He was out of the room before any protest could be made.

Dipper stumbled back up the stairs, his conscious mind far removed from reality. He was lost in a whirlpool of thought, spinning and spinning but always leading to the same place. Be forgotten. He collapsed into his bed, and didn't bother undressing. The empty space at the other end of the room beckoned forth his bleakest feelings, drawing forth the murky sludge with barbed hooks. Mabel was gone. It was his fault. They'd be better off without him. Be forgotten.

Hours passed in in a blur of half consciousness, all thought and awareness lost amidst the cloying darkness. Dipper was alone, until he wasn't. Strings of music pierced the veil of slumber, and roused him slowly but surely. It was something outdated, he could tell. He vaguely recognized the artist, but couldn't place a name. There was a fuzzy, scratchy quality to it, and he cracked open his eyes to try and find a source. What he found first was a legion of candles, placed on every available surface in the room. Flickering orange lights bobbed and swayed almost in time to the tune, and gave the room a warm, moody glow. The window must've been covered, for precious little daylight managed to spill into the room.

"Well, look who's finally up!" Dipper blinked and squinted at the silhouette of Bill, who appeared to be standing next to an old record player. He was dressed in one of his nicer suits, all sharp angles and boisterous yellow contrasted by shadowy black. A wide, sincere grin was painted across his face, and it glinted in the candlelight. Wreathed in cold shadows and wisps of fire, he looked more otherworldly than Dipper had ever seen him before. He stepped forward as the track abruptly switched, oxfords clicking against the floor. "Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream; make him the cutest, that I've ever seen. Give him two lips, like roses and clovers; and tell him that his lonesome nights are over," the demon crooned along with the record, swaying and spinning with each twisted step.

"What are you do-" Dipper cut himself off with a squeak as he was ripped out of bed, clutching instinctively at the lapels of Bill's suit. He felt heat rush to his face at their close proximity, eyes darting to flashes of teeth before meeting tarnished gold.

Bill smiled a predator's smirk, pulling Pine Tree against his torso and swaying them back and forth. "Sandman, I'm so alone! Don't have nobody, to call my own. Please turn on your magic beam! Mr Sandman, bring me a dream." Dipper yelped as he was suddenly twirled at arm's length, before stumbling as he was yanked back into Bill's chest. The demon giggled between words, but didn't break his rhythm. "Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream. Give him a pair of eyes, with a come-hither gleam." Dipper flushed further as a pair of lips pressed against his eyebrows. "Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci," Bill tapped him on the chest, "and lots of wavy hair like Liberace," and twirled a lock of his hair.

The record skipped abruptly, and began playing at half speed. The notes dragged out into something sorrowful. Bill's grip tightened, and a warm hand splayed over Dipper's back. "Sandman, someone to hold; would be so peachy, before I'm too old. So please turn on your magic beam! Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream."

The record scratched to a halt, and Dipper glanced up to find a single burning eye turned down on him. He swallowed something in his throat that had drawn tears to his eyes, and leaned up on the very tips of his toes to brush his lips against Bill's. He made a noise of surprise as the arms linked around him lifted him off his feet, legs dangling just above the floor. He held the kiss for a long moment, the simple press of lips fuzzing his head for near an eternity. But eventually he parted, and sighed out a breath. "..That's certainly something to wake up to."

"I thought so too! You were looking pretty glum earlier, and I decided to serenade you and dance with you at the same time! You were there, if I recall correctly." Bill beamed at the huff of laughter and rolled eyes he earned. "And everybody knows you need candles for serenading slash dancing. They set the mood, and also set things on fire!"

"Well, hopefully we won't be setting anything on fire in here." Dipper regretted his wording the moment Bill perked up, an eager grin stretching across his face. "No, we're not going to set anything on fire outside, either. We already have one fire demon to worry about; let's not make it two."

"Such a buzzkill," Bill sighed melodramatically, tossing Pine Tree onto his bed as if he weighed about as much as... well, himself, but with less limbs. Satisfied with his wording, Bill adjusted his bowtie unnecessarily. "Well we've still got about an hour before Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber get back, so..." Bill arched his eyebrow meaningfully, and it took Dipper a second to catch on after recovering from being thrown around.

"I don't think I could get back to sleep," he mumbled, face flushing with mortification. It wasn't that he didn't _enjoy_ doing... things, with Bill. He was just unsure of how to speak about such things in a casual manner. Or how to speak about them at all without wanting to shrivel up. He'd always been especially easy to fluster when it came to subjects of a sexual nature. Even alone in his house with the lights off and his door locked he somehow managed to feel embarrassed. He vaguely wondered if there was a reason behind that.

"That's fine too," Bill replied in a casual, dismissive tone. "We can have our fun right here, in the real world! 'Real' being relative, of course. I'll just be extra careful with your tender human meat, and we'll do just fine! " His voice was smooth and oily, and would have been persuasive if not for the unnecessary volume.

Dipper locked up at the suggestion, gears clicking together in his head. If they did... things, in reality, in his own bed... that'd cement everything as painfully real. He couldn't dismiss it as something that only happened in his dreams. Everything that constituted his relationship with Bill would be _real._ He wasn't sure if he was ready to take that step yet, or ever. "I-I don't know. Maybe we could just.. be close, for a little while? Listen to music?"

"Lying in bed with my favorite human while listening to some of the only tolerable music you apes ever created? Why would I EVER want to do THAT?" Bill snarked, already moving to set the record player. It scratched a short note before something mellow and jazzy began drifting through the air. The demon began casually stripping off his clothes as he sidled back to the bed, practically throwing himself onto the mattress.

"Why indeed," Dipper murmured, inching over to provide room for Bill. He seemed in no mood to waste time, immediately drawing Dipper underneath his arm and tangling a hand in his hair. "Were you around back then? In the fifties, I mean. Not like around, of course you were around, I just mean-"

"Yes," Bill interrupted, tone colored with amusement, "I was paying attention then. I kinda got distracted during the whole 'World War' thing, and by the time I got back all the fun was over. I was in a bit of a limbo back then, without much in the way of willing followers to manipulate. Science had kinda started stomping out superstition at that point. I spent a majority of the time investigating the entertainment scene, since the rest of your culture was stagnating. The way music moved people, drove them to fervent worship and blind idolization, it fascinated me. So I tricked some two-bit lounge singer out of his body, and tried my hand at the music industry. My intention was to be a big name and manipulate the oblivious masses, but things didn't quite work out that way."

"Is that when you learned to play the saxophone?" Dipper tried to imagine the demon he knew manipulating a brass woodwind, and couldn't quite picture it. The idea of Bill creating art was still a bizarre one, despite his clear appreciation of musical arts, and soft spot for poetry. Bill Cipher had always been synonymous with chaos and destruction; to know now that he was capable of structure and creation.. "What was it like? Playing music, I mean?"

"What? You mean, what did I feel when I played it? Sorry to say, but not a thing, Pine Tree. It was a diversion at best; something to do when I was bored. I didn't HATE the sounds I produced, but I don't know if I could say I LIKED them, either. I.." Bill made a vague noise of frustration in the back of his throat. "All I wanted was to be free of the Nightmare Realm so I could liberate your dimension. And by liberate, I mean do whatever I felt like with no consequences. But I don't care about that anymore. I care about YOU, Pine Tree. I WANT to be able to make you happy again, even thought I know it might not ever happen. And I still don't understand WHY I want things that are out of my reach." Bill met his Pine Tree's gaze, eye blazing with cosmic fires. He looked beyond the pale, gaunt face to the mind crammed inside a hunk of chemical soaked meat; the mind he'd almost completely destroyed. He stared through murky brown eyes, recalling flashes of dulled misery, and the rarest, most precious sparks of laughter. He saw past pale, oft bitten lips, and saw a smile meant only for him.

"But I think I understand why I want you, Pine Tree." 


	60. Lie

Despite having slept soundly through the night, as well as partly into the afternoon, Bill's Pine Tree somehow managed to drift off before long. He could have gazed upon that sleep slackened face for hours, but there were pressing matters to attend to. Bill adjusted himself into a position where he hopefully wouldn't cramp up, and removed his consciousness from his skin suit. He came free with the impression of a squelching 'POP', his natural luminescence painting the room in shades of yellow. He considered taking a moment to enjoy his metaphysical physicality, but decided it'd be a waste of time. He'd have more than enough time to enjoy himself as long as everything worked out in his favor, after all.

Bill floated leisurely over to Dipper's suitcase, unzipping the compartment where he was sure he had stashed the three Journals. His tiny hands could barely wrap around one of the books, let alone three. Well, at least he'd have a chance to test the extent of his abilities! Bill extended currents of will through the open air, and one by one the Journals floated from their container and into the air. It took more concentration than he'd have liked to keep them aloft, but he only needed them for a short while. "Alrighty, let's see here..." Bill flipped the books open manually, not wanting to risk dropping them and waking Pine Tree up. He leafed through pages for a short while before he found exactly what he needed.

The plans for the dimensional portal glared back at him through stiff black ink, and his eye crinkled upwards in a facsimile of a grin. He memorized the diagrams and blueprints in the blink of an eye, now that he wasn't contained within a human brain. However, he still only had the contents of that brain at his disposal, which he was quite displeased about. Cosmic knowledge and the return of his All Seeing Eye would be quite the boon, but he'd work with what he had for the moment. Bill carefully tucked the books back into their compartment and zipped it up, turning to phase through the bedroom door and float downstairs.

He navigated his way into the gift shop, hovering before the vending machine that lead down into Fordsie's laboratory. He knew the original code, of course, but there was a very strong possibility that it had been changed in the past decade. Deciding against setting off any sort of security precautions, Bill merely floated idly through the vending machine. Passing through solid objects while still being able to interact with them sure was neat!

The demon ventured further into the underground laboratory, gazing around to catalogue any glaring changes. The most obvious (and infuriating) was the complete lack of statues, sculptures, tapestries, and portraits of Bill himself. He hadn't REALLY expected Sixer to keep all of that around, but the idea of his image being tarnished and trashed had him boiling red. He bathed the entire room in a searing glow, which quickly faded back into soft yellow. Not important. He resisted the urge to set the entire place ablaze, mostly because he was unsure if he was even capable of doing so.

Bill had always dealt in absolutes. Either he was absolutely powerful, or he had nothing. This strange limbo of physicality without his true essence was... agitating. But everything he needed was right here, in this little lab. He floated to the lowest level, and emerged into the master control room. Everything appeared functional, if extremely dusty. Dull lights flashed at him from the darkness that attempted to permeate his bubble of radiance, but he ignored them for the moment. If he was right, every piece of the puzzle was in place. All except for..

Bill emerged into the cavern housing the portal itself, a room of smooth stones and steel struts and dozens of thick cables, all leading towards a corroded triangle of tarnished metal. The portal had been dislodged from its housing, and now leaned askew against the supports that had kept it aloft. The casing had cracked and crumbled in numerous locations, exposing the complex wiring underneath. It was more intact than he had been expecting. He'd almost thought that Stanford had dismantled it completely, which would have been the smart thing to do. Of course, when had Sixer ever had any REAL intellect to throw around? Bill cackled to himself, drifting closer to the portal to inspect it more closely.

After several long minutes, he realized that a surface scan wouldn't be enough to tell him exactly what he needed. Bill blinked his eye closed, and when it slowly slid back open, the Eye of Providence stared straight through reality itself. He saw every wire, every node, every port and circuit and transistor. Stanford had gutted the absolute essentials, but left everything else in place. He'd need to search the lab more thoroughly to retrieve the missing components. Beyond that... the portal was practically complete. All he needed was a little time and effort, and Bill Cipher would become a reality.

He thought of a boy asleep in an unmade bed, next to an empty body. He thought of that boy, the one that trusted him wholly and utterly, beyond even his own family. Bill thought of that boy, and felt nothing. He knew what his plan had been. But what was the harm in tweaking it a little? Of course, he'd likely begin sabotaging himself the moment he was back in that detestable skin sack, but that body wouldn't be able to sneak down here without being caught, surely. He just needed to overcome those primitive impulses and emotions. Without them, the REAL party could finally begin.

But he needed more time; time that he was sure was running out at the moment. He floated back up through the elevator shaft, exiting through the vending machine and drifting up the stairs. He entered the bedroom, and idly considered knocking over a candle to light the entire place up. Unfortunately he still needed that body to throw off Fez and Sixer. If they caught wind of his plan.. But that wouldn't be an issue, because they'd never find out. Bill gazed down at his own body, a warm lump that Pine Tree had entwined himself with. Pine Tree, who had unquestionably become infatuated with a monster. Pine Tree, who had unquestionably become infatuated with HIM. And he felt nothing.

Waves of consciousness ebbed and flowed, slowly floating Dipper up from the depths of slumber and up to the surface of reality. A low groan bubbled out of him as fatigue attempted to drag him back under, leaving his eyelids heavy and his limbs uncooperative. He was vaguely aware of the warmth of Bill beside him, and the lingering silence that had settled. He must've fallen asleep talking to Bill. "Hey... you awake?"

"Yup! Boy, I never knew humans could sleep so much. You're like a cat! Except more stringy." Bill lightly pinched Dipper's torso, right over a prominent rib, and earned a delicious yelp. "DEFINITELY more stringy." Bill ignored the incredibly nonthreatening glare that Pine Tree was attempting to send his way in favor of climbing out of bed. "We should see if Fez and Sixer are back with food. If not, I'm sure they'd make an alright meal."

"No eating my grunkles," Dipper replied absently, sitting up and pressing a hand to his forehead as a heavy dose of dizziness descended upon him. He vaguely wondered what time it was, before a sudden thought zapped him into stiffness. Wendy. And Bill was here, and would almost certainly be impossible to distract. At least he had an incredibly flimsy cover to work with. "Uhm... you remember Wendy Corduroy, right? Red hair, freckles? Wears a lot of flannel?"

"Red? Yeah, I know her! She's the most interesting of the lumberjack spawn, but that's really not saying much. Had a LOT of dreams about being chased by tree monsters. If only she knew." Bill paused in speaking to cackle louder than was necessary, and Dipper waited patiently for the demon to wear himself out. "Anyway," Bill said after his concerningly long laughter spell, "what about her?"

"She... might possibly be coming over this afternoon. As in potentially in the next few minutes." Dipper was unsure of what sort of expression would be appropriate to weather the possible detonation, but whatever his facial muscles contorted into was surely pathetic.

Bill's grin nearly unhinged his entire head, spires of enamel dominating his facial features in an inhuman stretch of teeth. Dipper faintly likened it to a combine harvester. Perhaps a combine harvester equipped with steak knives, he amended. "Well, then I guess I'll have to give her a warm welcome, won't I?"

"Don't hurt her." It wasn't a command; it was a plea. Dipper had no pride left to speak of, and he would certainly resort to begging to protect the people he cared about. "She doesn't know anything about what happened, and we won't let her find out, so please... don't hurt her."

Bill parted his teeth, and for a moment Dipper could have sworn he saw rows upon rows, stretching back and lining his mouth and the back of his throat. "She has no more value to me than any other talking meat on this planet. But I value you, Pine Tree. I won't hurt her." Bill could already imagine ripping her head off by the roots of her hair, and smashing it against the wall until it split apart like a pinata. But he would refrain. "But I'm still coming with you."

"Alright, that works," Dipper breathed shakily, relief flooding through him. He almost considered trying to propose a deal to try and extend that protection beyond three people, but decided to avoid irritating Bill further, if that was even possible at this point. Faintly, he could hear the bell above the front door ringing. "That might be her. We should probably.. uhm. You know." Dipper shrank away from the unreadable look Bill was pointing his way, climbing out of bed and leading the demon downstairs. He emerged into the gift shop with Bill hot on his heels, and found Wendy loitering against the checkout counter in a pose that he'd seen her in numerous times before.

"Oh, there you are! I was just about to come looking for you." Wendy tossed aside her magazine (titled 'The Systematic Deconstruction of Societal Conventions') and turned a warm smile Dipper's way. It became tinged with curiosity when she caught sight of Bill, who was flashing his most unnerving grin. She didn't seem particularly perturbed, likely due to the glamour. "Oh, what's up? Are you a friend of Dipper's?"

"Yeah, uh.. Wendy, meet-" Dipper yelped as he was roughly elbowed aside, Bill slinking into his place and looming ominously.

"William Alvah, pleasure to meet you! You must be Wendy! Dipper's mentioned you once or twice before." Bill extended a hand directly into Wendy's face, fingers twitching with the urge to gouge out her eyes. He quashed the impulse in favor of trying to play along. Hopefully she wouldn't stick around for long.

Wendy tentatively accepted the hand with one of her own, showing no outward reaction to Bill's crushing grip strength. "Once or twice, huh? I'm hurt, Dip." She flashed a wry grin, and received an outrageously nervous laugh in response. More than used to Dipper being painfully awkward, she paid it no mind. "Nice to meet you too, William. So how do you know Dipper?"

"I'm his housemate!" Bill cut in once more, absolutely obliterating Dipper's attempt to speak. "Yup, we've been living together for a few months now. He put out an ad online for a room rental, and I was the lucky catch! Imagine my surprise when the sweaty, awkward nerd I thought I'd be living with turned out to be so adorable."

"He _does_ have a bit of a baby face, doesn't he?" Wendy agreed, amusement coloring her voice. It evolved into a full laugh when she noticed the outright mortification on Dipper's face. "Just teasing, dude. So how'd you wind up getting dragged all the way to Oregon with him?"

Bill's grin melted into something infinitely more somber. "Well, after what happened with Mabel, Dipper needed someone to lean on. Luckily I was there to help shoulder some of the burden." Bill caught the flash of guilt that flickered over Wendy's expression, and bit down on a cackle. "I did my best to help him get back on his feet after such a tragic loss, and... I guess we just grew closer as time went on. I did my very best to be the emotional support he so desperately needed. After the funeral, his great uncles proposed that he come here to Gravity Falls, to get away from everything for a little while. Dipper insisted that I come along too. Not that I can blame him; we're practically inseparable." Bill wrapped an arm around Pine Tree and yanked him close, ignoring his yelp of shock.

Wendy swallowed a lump in her throat, and Bill could feel how fake her smile was. "Well, I'm really grateful that you were there for Dipper. I know it has to be hard, and... I'm glad he had someone with him."

"Well, it wasn't like I could just abandon him," Bill replied passionately. "It would've been absolutely HORRIBLE of me to not be there for him when he needed someone. I can understand his uncles being away at sea, but..." Bill shook his head sadly, and tightened his hold on Pine Tree. "I can't even imagine being so callous as to not help a friend in need."

Wendy appeared on the brink of tears, clearly grappling with some inner turmoil. Bill resisted the urge to crow in victory. But that urge was quickly replaced with shock as her expression smoothed into something hard and polished. "Are you trying to insinuate something?"

Apparently he'd been a bit too heavy handed. He opened his mouth, already formulating a defense, until Pine Tree spoke over him. "No, no, he doesn't mean anything by it. B-William is just speaking from experience. He hasn't always been a great person, but... with the way he's helped me, I think he's making great progress." Pine Tree smiled up at him, sweet as cotton candy, but Bill could see a muted fire behind his eyes.

Wendy's stare remained leveled at Bill's unfaltering smile for a long moment, before she visibly softened. "I can respect that. It's really admirable that you're trying to improve yourself, man." Her gaze flickered over to Dipper, just in time to avoid the flash of absolute fury on Bill's face, and she mustered a smile that appeared quite a bit less pained then the last one. "Hey, so I know Nate, Lee, and Tambry are still in town... we could all meet up, go to the mall or something?" She quickly backpedaled as all the color left Dipper's face at the suggestion. "Or maybe just you, William and I could go do something? Explore the woods, or grab some pancakes?"

Dipper bit his lip, gaze affixed firmly to the floor. "I'd really just prefer to stay inside, if that's alright. Stan and Ford will be back with groceries soon, so... we could make lunch, and watch some movies or something." He didn't sound particularly enthused even about his own suggestion.

"Yeah, that's cool with me. Whatever you're comfortable with, Dip." Wendy smiled at him in that understanding way that she always seemed to manage without any effort. At one point, it might have even been capable of making Dipper feel like things were okay. But now there was only the oozing pus of self loathing, bubbling forth from the lesions that marked every inch of his shredded insides. He didn't deserve her friendship, or understanding. He was a murderer, a failure, a liar. And he would continue to lie, for as long as it would take. He'd lie until everything was better. Until he could be alright again.

And Dipper knew that was a lie as well.


	61. Preceding

  
Days oozed by in a syrupy sludge, warm summer rays either fanned by countless leaves and pine needles, or diluted by dusty, grimy windows. Dipper hadn't set foot outside since arriving in Gravity Falls, absolutely petrified at the idea of being seen by the town's occupants. He weakly endured the flow of time by studying over the instructions Ford had given him, as well as halfheartedly preparing ingredients that had been retrieved by Bill and his grunkles. A vial of unicorn's blood, the antenna of an anticore, forty grams of fairy wings; the ingredients struck Dipper as horrifically morbid, but he supposed it would make sense for them to require incredibly powerful components to properly destroy a demon. So he ignored the queasy, uneasy feeling in his stomach and disregarded the thought of the inhabitants of the forest being injured for the sake of their trap, and simply did what he was instructed to do.

Bill spent every waking moment with his eye open, in one form or another. During the day he played the part of 'helpful but obnoxious', and at night he used what limited technical knowledge he'd stuffed his disgusting ape brain with to carefully replace every bit of wiring and circuitry that Stanford had removed from the portal. He quickly learned that leaving his body unattended left him without proper rest, and his searing gaze began to grow bleary and muddled. He grappled with his own uncertainty, actively trying to sabotage either avatar of himself, depending on the body he inhabited. He'd toyed more than once with the idea of simply abandoning the portal altogether, but he knew that he'd regret it. So his work continued despite his inner conflict and growing exhaustion.

Dipper knew, with one hundred percent certainty, that he was going insane. Hours upon hours of solitude within walls that had once contained all the joys of his childhood now reminded him only of everything he had lost. The silent echo of dying laughter resonated inside his head, in a voice he hoped to never forget. But he knew that one day he wouldn't quite be able to recall the color of her eyes, or the exact pitch of her voice. He'd lose her face to the erosion of time, and she'd be nothing but a memory of simpler times. An ideal, instead of a real person. All he could think about was her smile, trying desperately to recall exactly what it looked like. The smile he'd never be blessed with witnessing again. The smile he might as well have slaughtered with his own hands. The smile of a rotten corpse.

Dipper stumbled into the bathroom and just managed to bang his knees against the tile floor before he was emptying his stomach into the toilet. His eyes burned with unshed tears, and gastric acids irritated his throat and nostrils. The first few heaves emptied what little had actually been in his stomach, but it continued bucking and convulsing, forcing him to hack up nothing but spittle. He debated on collapsing to the floor and shriveling up for all eternity, but eventually his legs shakily lifted him up.

Dipper clutched at the rims of the sink until his fingers twinged and ached, staring into the dull, tarnished mirror. Sickly, gaunt, drawn, haggard, ragged, _disgusting_. He squeezed his eyes shut, the ache of tears present, but the tears themselves refusing to fall. He'd already done so much crying. He didn't deserve to feel sorry for himself. It was his mistakes that had ruined his life, after all.

He couldn't possibly blame Bill. Not when the demon was _trying_ -trying so hard to make up for his misdeeds, to make Dipper feel alright, to help him at least pretend that he was a person again. He wasn't treated like fine china, or made to feel unimportant. He couldn't possibly put into words his sheer appreciation and gratitude towards Bill. Nor could he wax poetic about his emotions regarding him. Dipper wasn't sure he knew what love was, anymore, but he could say for certain that he cared about Bill. Possibly more than anyone else.

His friends, his family... he wanted them to be safe. He wanted to avoid the disgust and hatred they'd surely feel for him, were they to know of what he'd done. Stan was too ensnared by the past to see the present for what it was, and Ford viewed him only as something useful, a tool to aid in his pursuit of knowledge. They'd both be better off without him.

Dipper's eyes slid open, dulled like old marbles. He pulled away from the sink, fingers sore and cramped from how hard he'd been grasping the porcelain sink. Stan, Ford, and Bill wouldn't be back for a few hours. A memory gun couldn't be _that_ hard to find, right?

If Bill had possessed any traces of fondness regarding Gravity Falls, it was well and truly obliterated by having to trek through the forest day after day. The underbrush caught on his clothes and the earth underfoot dulled the shine of his shoes, completely ruining one of the few bits of class he was 'allowed' to accessorize with. At one point a bird had attempted to swoop off with his bowtie. Hollow bones didn't prove much of an obstacle.

"So tell me again what we're looking for?" Bill prompted for the seventh time in as many minutes, earning a displeased snort from Fez. Sixer's patience was quite a bit thicker than his brother's, so he merely sighed before repeating himself.

"As I'm sure you already know," Ford sent the demon a hard look, and Bill merely grinned in return, "we're looking for a nest of harpies that migrate here every year, in the hopes that they'll give up a few feathers. They're a crucial ingredient that we need to finish our ritual circle."

"So informative," Bill praised sarcastically, "if only you'd actually done something useful with your life and become a professor, instead of investigating the supernatural. But enough about your miserable existence. What I want to know is why I don't get a weapon." Bill gestured at the crossbow slung over Stanley's shoulder, as well as the pistol holstered at Ford's side.

"I don't trust you with anything more than your bare hands," Ford explained succinctly. "Actually, I'd like to amend that statement. I don't trust you even with _just_ your bare hands, but you'd be fairly useless if they were bound."

"Gee, how flattering to know you're so frightened of me!" Bill's grin twisted like barbed wire, and promised just as much pain. "But you're under Pine Tree's protection at the moment, so you've got nothing to worry about! Unless, I dunno, you get eaten by harpies or something, random example."

"Would the both'a ya put a sock in it already?" Stanley barked, agitation clear in his voice. "I'm an old man, and I don't need to waste my time listenin' to my brother argue passive aggressively with a space demon. So let's just get these stupid feathers and go."

"An excellent suggestion, Stanley," Ford began in a painfully unapologetic tone. "I will be speaking with the colony myself, when we encounter them. I mean no offense to you, Stanley, but your more... underhanded tactics will not be appreciated by the harpies. And Cipher is, well, Cipher, so I'd prefer to keep him as far away from other sentient creatures as possible."

"At least we can agree on one thing," Stan grunted at a volume high enough to be heard over Bill's audible pouting. "I'll keep an eye on the freak while you do your diplomacy thing. If things turn sour, start screaming."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Ford replied dryly, and began setting off for a rocky side path to the trail they'd been following. Bird calls echoed over the landscape, ringing shrill and clear. It was a sound Ford vaguely recognized from hearing decades ago, but he was absolutely positive the calls belonged to the harpies, instead of the eagleopes that would surely peck his eyes out.

"Alright, listen. Keep your mouth shut and don't move an inch, and we'll get along just fine," Stanley grumbled in Bill's general direction, not looking directly at the demon.

"Sure thing, Fez! You have NO idea just how quiet I can be! Did I ever tell you about that one time I-" Bill broke into obnoxious laughter at the long suffering glare he received. "C'mon, lighten up! It's not like we've got anything better to do while waiting for Sixer to get eaten."

"I can think of a _lot_ of things better than havin' to talk to you," Stan spat, still making a strong effort to keep Bill out of his field of vision. He stared absently into the distance, past the interlocking treetops and to the blue sky beyond while attempting to tune out Cipher's blabbering. He frowned at the sight of thick grey clouds, less than ecstatic about the possibility of being rained on. He squinted at the clouds, attempting to guess at how far away they were, only to notice something odd. They billowed upwards in thick columns, and if he hadn't gotten turned around on their way through the woods, he'd almost say they hovered directly over- "Cipher, shut your mouth for one second and take a look at this."

Bill paused in the middle of making up nonsense, looking fairly miffed by the interruption. "What could POSSIBLY be more interesting than me?" He plodded over and followed the line of Fez's finger, catching sight of- "Oh. That, uh. That's probably not good, huh? Looks like ol' Molty caught up with us!"

Stan appeared all the more panicked in the face of Bill's lackadaisical attitude, head whipping back and forth between the direction of the town, and the trail his brother had gone up. "Okay, okay, I'll get Ford, you get back to the shack and help Dipper prepare the circle." Stan didn't even wait to see if the demon would follow his instructions, turning to follow the trail that Ford had taken-

Bill's clenched fist crunched into the side of Stanley's head with a satisfying crack, sending the man crashing to the forest floor with a pained grunt. Bill stalked over to the slowly recovering flesh sack, steps loping and predatory. "I'm afraid I can't let that happen. You and your idiot twin are too likely to ruin everything AGAIN. But fortunately for you, I don't have time to tear you limb from limb."

Stan groaned and blinked open his eyes, vision blurred and head fuzzed with whining static. He attempted to say something, but Bill intervened well before he could force the words out.

The last thing he saw was the earth crusted sole of Bill Cipher's loafer.

 


	62. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a bit of delay between updates.

The forest howled with a thousand crackling voices, trees stretching into infinity and a suffocating darkness closing in on the demon attempting to navigate the wooded labyrinth. Clawed branches and twisted, thorny brambles crowded the forest floor, creating an underbrush nearly impossible to navigate.

And so Bill didn't bother navigating it. His palms lit up with cerulean flames, the flickering light nearly smothered by the liquid darkness. He turned everything in his path to cinders, channeling as much of his limited energy as he could into conjuring his fire. "YOU THINK YOU CAN KEEP ME HERE, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A DEMON? I'LL CRUSH YOU LIKE THE INSECT YOU ARE!" Bill roared over the cacophony of voices.

Eventually they all began coalescing into one singular phrase, repeated over and over with increasing fervor. " ~~MaSTer of NONe, FUeL fOr THe FIRE! MAStEr oF nOnE, fUEL FoR ThE FIRE!~~ " The twisted brambles snaked out of the darkness, solid as steel and cutting as barbed wire. They cut at every inch of Bill that he couldn't protect with his flames, ripping through his clothes and drawing forth oozing blood. Whipping branches slashed across his face, and he howled in rage.

"THAT IS **ENOUGH**!" Bill's flames extinguished in a flash as he ceased channeling them, and instead forced as much of his energy as he could into his eye. The Eye of Providence lit up with a golden brilliance, searing through the darkness and vaporizing Bill's wooden confines. The voices screamed at him as he tore the illusion apart, emerging from the edge of the forest.

He slowed to a halt as he beheld the sight before him. Gravity Falls was painted soot black and fiery orange, lit with a chaotic brilliance that had buildings burning like matchsticks and citizens fleeing in terror. Roads were cracked open and oozing lava like pus, and the air stung Bill's face like the inside of an oven. Such a boring sight, he eventually concluded. But unfortunately, one that was an actual danger to him. He darted back into the very fringes of the woods, utilizing what information he'd actually bothered to store about the layout of the town he loathed. As long as Molta didn't find him, everything would be alright,he'd finally be complete, and he'd do everything in his limitless power to make Pine Tree happy again.

The memory gun had been surprisingly easy to find. Dipper had spent nearly half an hour searching through drawers with trembling hands, digging through loose papers and writing utensils and other inventions, many of which he didn't even recognize. Unsurprisingly enough, it had been in the last place he'd looked; the device was in Ford's private study, a room previously noteable for it's vast collection of idols to Bill Cipher. They had all been removed years ago, burned and broken and burned a second time. The memory gun had been hardwired into Ford's ancient computer console, and lines of text filled the screens.

Dipper didn't have time to process it all. All he needed was a strong enough signal to amplify the memory gun, and he could finally be forgotten. He paused in reaching for the device, eyes flickering up to the screen. There was an empty blinking box, and he could only imagine it would be used to input the specific memory that required deleting. His hands hovered over the keyboard, another thought entering his mind, unbidden.

'Mabel Pines' resided within the box's confines, the text glaring bright green. Dipper stared at that name, one he'd never be able to forget. Not on his own. But with this simple little invention, he could be free of her phantom presence. He'd be free of guilt, of self hatred, of suicidal impulses. And... he'd be free of his childhood. He'd be free of nearly every moment he had ever been happy in his entire life. He'd lose Mabel forever.

Dipper felt everything rush into him in a single instant, a tsunami of emotion drenching and drowning his detached numbness. He wailed out a sob and clutched the memory gun against his chest, feeling more lost than he ever had before. He didn't want to forget, but knowing caused a deep, grievous agony that he couldn't bear any longer. He wanted Stan and Ford to love him, to forgive him, but he knew that it could never be. Maybe.. Dipper's hands fell weakly onto the keyboard, fingers sluggishly typing out the final solution. Maybe this really was the only way. Being someone else hadn't gotten him anywhere. Being himself was an agony unlike any other. Maybe he could be nobody, instead. 'Dipper Pines' blinked back at him from the screen's confines, and his hand trembled as he raised the memory gun to lightly press against his temple. Dipper Pines closed his eyes for the last time-

Gears and pulleys clunked and whirred to life as the basement elevator began descending. Dipper locked up with the gun clutched in a sweaty palm, broken from his deep, blinding haze. His fingers trembled and fumbled to unhook the memory gun from the console, clutching it as if it could provide any sort of notable defense. As if he _needed_ to defend himself against something. He waited with baited breath as it rattled downwards, huffing out a sigh when it travelled past the floor he was on.

Only... who would go down to the bottom floor? There wasn't much of note, aside from the defunct portal. He couldn't think of any reason why Stan or Ford would be down there, and Bill... maybe Bill was looking for him? But why would Bill think he'd be down there? Dipper cautiously approached the elevator, thumbing the call button and listening to it shake and shudder on its way up to him. Whoever was on the level below would certainly be able to hear it, but that wasn't really an issue, right?

Dipper bit his lip as he stepped over the elevator's threshold, directing it to take him one floor down. Halfway down it began screeching and whining, and Dipper glanced around in a panic. Was the elevator breaking down? Had some mechanism snapped, or come loose? He reached out to steady himself on the wall, only to yelp in surprise as his feet left the ground. Gravity seemed to be malfunctioning as well, and his mind raced to figure out _why_ it was happening. The only thing he could think of was-

"No.. no no no no _no_!" Dipper slammed his fist against the closed doors, desperately willing the elevator to move faster. He was starting to drift towards the ceiling, only to cry out as gravity suddenly snapped back into reality and sent him crashing to the floor. He groaned as the elevator dinged, the rickety doors parting with a screech. He stumbled out of them on hand and knee, frantically attempting to stand while maintaining forward momentum. He could see the glow of the countdown timer, and squinted in an attempt to make it out.

'00:02:53'. Dipper choked down a scream and sprinted into the portal chamber, the device itself lit up and pulsating with dimension warping power. It cast the room in an eerie blue glow, which Dipper ignored during his mad dash towards the manual override console. He sobbed in despair when he remembered the three keys needed to activate the shutdown switch. He attempted to turn them as quickly as possible, only for them to lock up in their slots. He slammed his fists uselessly against the console, head hung and tears tracking down his face. "W-why..?"

"It's for your sake, of course." Bill's voice overpowered the hum of the portal and the rumbling of the earth above them. His loafers clacked against the stone floor, and Dipper flinched as a hand was laid on his shoulder. "I'm going to make everything better. I promise." Bill stepped back in shock as Dipper violently yanked away from his grip, turning towards him with a venom infused glare.

"F-for my sake?! I know what you're doing, Bill! All this time, I thought you-I thought we were... I trusted you," Dipper hiccuped, one hand trembling as it reached down towards the memory gun in his pocket. His organs were constricted by burning iron chains, disbelief roaring through him even as betrayal burned behind his eyes. "You're the same as you've always been, using people to further your own goals. So you can destroy Gravity Falls and the rest of the world-"

"Newsflash: Gravity Falls is ALREADY destroyed. And it's gonna stay that way if I don't fix it," Bill snapped, agitation flaring and warring with caution as he noticed Dipper's accessory. "Molta is here, and he's burning it to the ground. We don't have time for useless ritual circles, because everything'll be ash even if we DO get rid of him."

"You're... you're _lying_! You've always lied, that's all you've _ever_ done! And I'm so stupid that I kept believing them, over and over! But not anymore." Dipper whipped the memory gun up to aim at Bill's forehead, the demon's eye widening in shock. "I-I'll erase you right out of your own head!" Dipper was shouting now, voice cracking and face wet with tears that began rising towards the ceiling. His heart hammered in his ribcage, and he could barely manage to keep a bead on Bill. "I won't let you hurt anyone again. I... I won't let you hurt _me_ again!"

"Pine Tree, wait, you don't understand! I don't want to hurt you, I'm just trying to help! But I... I'm useless like this, I need more power! I just have to get out of the Nightmare Realm, and I can fix everything. Don't you believe me?" Bill's voice rang clear with sincerity, and his face was an open whirlpool of hope and sorrow.

"I-..." Dipper's eyes flickered towards the portal, and he was barely even aware of his feet beginning to leave the ground once more. His expression was an open wound of betrayal and agony, reflected back at him from a golden eye. "I won't let you hurt my family  _EVER_ again!" Dipper's finger tightened on the trigger-

-and the shot went wide as the fluctuating gravity sent them both spiralling through the air. They collided in a tangle of limbs, Dipper attempting to swing the memory gun around as Bill struggled to rip it from his grasp. Dipper cried out in shock as the portal pulsed, sending out a shockwave that slammed them both against the far wall. Dipper managed to turn over, memory gun caught between his chest and Bill's, pointed just underneath his chin.

The Eye of Providence was blown wide with genuine fear, as well as something bordering on misery. "Pine Tree, PLEASE! You HAVE to believe me! Everything I'm doing, everything I'm working for-it's all for you! It's always been about you, Dipper," Bill breathed, tenderly stroking the back of his hand across a tear soaked cheek. "I.. I can never thank you enough for what you've done. Even when I tried to ruin you, you taught me.. you taught me that I could be more than what I was. That I could be more than just a monster. So please.. please trust me."

Dipper sucked in a shuddering breath, eyes flickering over the painfully familiar face in front of him. He stared deep into molten gold, and saw a flash of a face lost to him forever. A face that had always held kindness, compassion, and trust. A face that had once so closely mirrored his own. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, and spoke.

"...I trust you." He released the memory gun from his grasp, allowing it to float off into open air as zero-gravity settled into place. He pressed his face against a yellow clad chest, and felt misshapen hands gently settle on his back. He wanted nothing more than to believe that Bill's words were truthful, that he cared, that he could be trusted. His chest ached and burned with that desire, to know that everything would be alright again. He _needed_ it to be true, needed it more than anything, because without it there was nothing left.

"Don't worry, Pine Tree. Everything will get better. I promise." Bill gently prised Pine Tree off of his person, kicking off the wall and floating serenely towards the wildly fluctuating portal. He turned one final look back on the only human that had ever mattered, and droplets of crystalline tears drifted through the air, refracting a myriad of vibrant colors. "I'll see you on the other side."

In the same moment that Bill Cipher disappeared into the depths of the interdimensional portal, Dipper's entire world was encompassed by a blinding white light.


	63. In and Out

  
"-anley? Stanley!" The world was a technicolor blur, colors bleeding together like an abstract mural. Barely decipherable words buzzed in his ears like a swarm of gnats, and one of his eyes was caked shut by something warm and viscous. His mouth tasted of soil and copper, and ached like he'd been hit with a bat. "Stanley, I know you must be disorientated, but I need you to get up!"

Stan managed a groan at the sound of his brother's voice, clarity trickling into his ringing head, bit by bit. Something wiped at his eye socket, cleaning it and allowing his eye to slowly blink open. The boxy outline of his brother's face came into focus, set with grim lines. A calloused hand grasped his own, pulling him to his feet and keeping him steady until Ford was sure his twin would be able to stand under his own power. Stan attempted to massage the side of his head, hissing as he irritated the bruised, broken skin. That appeared to be the trigger necessary to send the last few minutes crashing into his brain, and to set his mouth in synchronous movement with his mind. "Cipher, he's headed to the Shack, we need to-"

"I had a very strong suspicion that he was behind your condition," Ford interrupted unapologetically. "Luckily, I don't believe his handiwork will cause any lasting damage."

Stan grimaced at the flavor of blood and dirt clinging to the inside of his mouth, rubbing at his aching jaw. "Yeah, well I doubt that whatever he's up to right now _won't_ cause lasting damage. The freak said something about Molta catching up with us, and clocked me good. I dunno if he thinks he can take the thing on himself, or wants to _help_ it, but whatever's goin' on ain't good."

"My thoughts precisely. Unfortunately, neither of us is in any position to take down a demon, let alone two. The majority of my equipment is in the Shack, and I highly doubt we'll outpace Cipher on our way back. Otherwise.." Ford reached into his coat, fingers brushing against a polished ivory handle that had his arm tingling and writhing all the way up to the shoulder. He left it well enough alone, instead pulling out a worn, folded map. "I have a bunker in this general area, hopefully with enough supplies and weaponry to help us undo whatever damage has been done. I also have an experiment stowed there, one that might prove useful if I am able to finish it."

Stan sent him an incredulous look, which soon shifted into outrage. "That freak of a demon is out there somewhere, probably plottin' to destroy the universe, and that _other_ thing is burning the whole town to the ground, and _you_ wanna just go tinker with your science nonsense in a hole in the ground?!"

"Stanley, please don't be difficult," Ford droned monotonously, in an attempt to reign back annoyance. "We aren't capable of fighting two demons and rebuilding a town with what we have on us. So please stop delaying so we can do something productive."

"Oh, I see how it is! Play the smart guy card, huh? Make it seem like I'm an idiot 'cause I wanna do something useful, instead of stickin' my head in the dirt!" Stan's voice rose in volume, his irritation towards Ford mingling with his bubbling rage towards Cipher, and combining with his rising panic over the situation to form a viscous stew of negative emotion. "You can go play all you want, but _I'm_ going to go stop Cipher."

"Stanley we don't have _time_ for this-" In that instant, Hell descended upon the Earth. The periwinkle sky, blotted by columns of soot grey smoke, was torn asunder by an unearthly rip, swirling masses of cosmic energy flashing colors that no human eye could properly perceive. It shattered the heavens in an ugly dimensional rift, dyeing the sky around it a sinister blood orange. The world was painted in an apocalyptic palette, harsh reds and oranges bleeding out every other color. The sun itself was dimmed by the ravine that scarred the skies, leaving it a pale, forgotten dot. And from within the rift emerged a tiny black speck, one so incredibly insignificant in the face of the dimensional tear behind it. And yet Ford couldn't look away, attention drawn to it by some magnetic force. And then it produced the most horrendous sound he had ever heard; howling, screaming, bellowing laughter that rent the air apart and carried to every inch of the Gravity Falls valley.

"W..we're too late," Ford murmured, face turning ashen. "It's the end of the world." A wave of despair crashed over him, but he managed to keep his head well and above the clawing depths. His expression hardened with determination, and he turned to meet his brother's slackjawed gaze. "We can still put a stop to this, Stanley. But I can't do it without you."

Stan blinked slowly, blood crusting the side of his face and bruises already forming on injured flesh. He thought of his nephew, alone in the Shack, likely at the whims of the most deplorable creature to ever exist. "Yeah. Okay, let's do this."  
\----  
Bill Cipher, Master of the Mind and All Seeing Eye, was finally free. He had DONE IT. He was finally free of the Nightmare Realm, finally omniscient, omnipotent, and completely physical. He gazed down at the ruined town beneath him, his Eye of Providence gleaming as he peered through the thick clouds of smoke. "What's the fun in a toy that's already broken?" He snapped his fingers with a monumental eruption of power that sent a shockwave to the very core of his meatsuit. In mere moments he was piecing the town back together, brick by plank by strut by door. And speaking of his physical form... well, the master of reality needed an appearance befitting a ruler, didn't he?

Bill's skin bubbled and boiled and wriggled, darkening from a sickly white to a deep, oily black. His limbs stretched to truly nightmarish proportions, fingers elongating into wickedly curved claws. A quartet of arms exploded out of his back, every bit as crooked and vile as his original pair. The top set framed his head like a twisted set of horns, and the grin on his face grew even wider. His aleady horrifying maw pulled to wrap around the sides of his head in a glasgow smile of bristled needles. He rolled his blank eye back in its socket, turning it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before a black, triangular pupil rose to the cloudy surface. He decided to adjust his wardrobe as well, a garish yellow waistcoat twisting around his sickeningly long torso, flaring out into a tailcoat that billowed like the ends of a cape. Pitch black slacks, gleaming gold buttons, a top hat, a shining cane-finally, after a trillion years, he was complete.

He languidly drifted down towards the mainstreet of Gravity Falls, raising an eyebrow at the crowd of citizens that had come crawling out of the woodwork. He clacked to the ground in front of them, towering at nearly eight feet tall. They muttered amongst themselves before one was pushed forward, a truly scrawny specimen with a mayor's sash that Bill could have squashed even without his unlimited power.

"N-now listen here, you dapper monster feller! We here in Gravity Falls don't take kindly to apocalyptic nightmare scenarios! So you kin take yer interdimensional abomination friend and git... git.. git on out of town!" Tyler Cutebiker's proclamation was met with a resounding wave of roared agreements, the majority of the volume courtesy of Manly Dan.

Bill hummed in thought and tapped his chin, before his head was nearly torn in half by his grin. "Say, that's a neat idea, but I've got an even better one! How about I turn your eyes into your hands and your hands into your eyes?" With a snap of his fingers that rent the air like a lightning strike, Mayor Tyler was reduced to choked wails of agony as his eyeballs exploded into flailing five fingered appendages, and his hands wilted off to be replaced by a bulbous set of eyes.

Bill screamed with laughter as the rest of the citizens fell into a terrified silence, his Eye of Providence closed but his triangular pupil twitching over each and every face. "Oh, Gravity Falls, it is SO GOOD to finally be here! I'm sure you folks are well and truly tired of the mundanity of reality, right? Luckily for you, your ol' pal Bill Cipher is here to spice things up! But before I can do that, I've got something to take care of. So all of you sit pretty while I do that, okay? And I'LL KNOW IF YOU TRY TO LEAVE." His sudden spike in volume earned a few flinches, and he flashed another inhuman smile. "Don't worry, you fine folks of Gravity Falls! W̴̨̨̨E̢͟͡͠'̴̨̀͟͠RE҉G̷̷̡̕OÍ͏͟N̶̨G̶̕ ̴̶̧͡T́͘͟͠Ó̡͘͘ ̷͟͝҉̛H̶̢̡͠Ą̵̕͠͏V̷̡E̷̢ ̶̛́̕A̶̴͜ ̸̢̕͘͝L̡̢O͝T̷ ͞͏OF̛́͏̡͠ ̴͝F͞U͟͡͠N̸͠͠ ͠͝T̛̀͞͡Ǫ̴̢͢͝G̢͘͟E͢͞T̴͘H͡͝E̴Ŗ̷̸̀͝.̵̷̛͝ ̶͏͟"  
\----  
The first thing Dipper was aware of was the sharp, electric scent of ozone. It curled in his nostrils and made his tongue tingle unpleasantly. The second was the aching of his limbs, each of them protesting their very existence. He groaned and curled in on himself, only worsening the discomfort. The floor underneath him was solid and frigid, giving rise to goosebumps on his exposed skin. He opened his eyes, and his brows furrowed as he was met with near complete darkness. It should have been brighter, considering the portal-

The portal. Bill had gone through the portal. Dipper shot up to his feet like an overloaded cannon, quickly toppling back over with a pained grunt. He steadied himself on his hands and knees, glancing up at the portal. Or where it should have been, at least. Chunks of machinery were scattered on the floor space underneath where the portal had been located, still smoking and sparking. The major components of the portal were completely gone, leaving only a charcoal scorch mark on the cavern wall.

He eventually managed to coax his limbs into supporting him properly, wobbling slightly on his journey upright. He glanced around the portal chamber, catching sight of the memory gun in what little light managed to bleed through from the control room. From what he could see the bulb was completely shattered, and his chest was ripped open by despair and resignation. That was one less option at his disposal.

But if Bill was telling the truth, then he'd never need it anyway. Everything would work out, in one way or another. He clung to the thought with all the desperation of a man that already knew he was dead, clawing with numb fingers and slowly slipping with every second that passed. Everything had fallen apart so fast, and now Dipper was falling with it. It was all he could do to grasp onto the threads that remained, despite how their barbs cut him apart.

Despite the portal surely having rattled the very foundations of the lab to the core, the elevator appeared fully functional. Dipper slid against the wall as he fumbled to thumb the necessary button, listening to the mechanisms creak and squeal as he slowly ascended. Trepidation pulled his nerves wire tight, caused by the unknown that waited for him on the surface. Bill had said something about Gravity Falls already being destroyed. But.. with omnipotence, surely he could restore everything, right? Dipper had the sudden, sickening thought of something that could not be replaced as easily. He knew very little about the demon that had pursued them, but surely it had no qualms about extinguishing human lives. The thought of any of the citizens of Gravity Falls being hurt, _dying_ , because of _him_...

Dipper trudged out of the opening elevator doors, fingers grasping for the handrail on the stairs as he slowly, carefully forced his legs up the rickety steps. He breathed a sigh of something almost like relief when the vending machine slid out of the way with a hydraulic hiss, revealing-

"Dipper! Oh thank god, you're okay!" Wendy's voice left her in a whoosh of bone creaking relief, and Dipper found himself engulfed by sturdy arms, which squeezed until he could barely draw breath. He wheezed and earned himself a smidgen of mercy, the grip loosening enough for him to speak.

"W-why wouldn't I be okay? And what are you doing here?" He attempted to extract himself from Wendy's grip, and was only successful because she obliged his escape. Now that he had a chance to actually see her, his eyes widened. She was painted with streaks of soot and ash, her flannel shirt was singed at the hem, and she had a hand axe tightly clenched in her grip. Bill really _had_ been telling the truth. That... Molta, thing, must have burned down the town, or at least parts of it.

"I guess you wouldn't know if you were down there the whole time," Wendy muttered, the relieved sparkle in her eyes dimming. "It's... it's wild out there, Dip. Some... weird, sludge thing just appeared out of nowhere, and then the entire town was lighting up. I don't think anyone got caught in the blaze, but I couldn't be sure. I came here to make sure you, the Stans, and William were okay. But as soon as I got here, some kind of... I dunno, rift, opened up in the sky. I looked all over for you guys, until you came out of the basement. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

Dipper chewed on his tongue, cowering away from the open, earnest look Wendy was giving him. It was so trusting, so confident that he had answers, or could at least find them-but the truth would ruin everything. Only... what was there left to ruin, really? Once Bill got rid of Molta, he'd never be coming back to Gravity Falls again. What did it _really_ matter if Wendy hated him, as long as she was healthy and alive? The indecision gnawed at his insides like a ravenous animal, teeth grinding against his bones. "I... should get the Journals. And then I can... explain, some things."

Fear cracked into his ribs like a hail of bricks, and he drew a shallow breath. He could already imagine the look on her face. "J..just wait here, okay?" He ripped his gaze away, leaving Wendy to stand alone in the gift shop. His legs buckled underneath him with each labored step, his chest caving in as frantic breaths wracked what little torso he had left. He didn't want to tell her, but what choice did he have? The memory gun was gone, Bill had opened the rift from the Nightmare Realm, and he had nobody left to hide behind.

The rickety stairs creaked in protest under his meager weight, and he imagined he'd produce similar sounds, were he to be tread upon. As if he wasn't already downtrodden enough, crushed into the mud by the weight of his sins, his stupidity, his failures. He was still dry and crumbling, but soon the rains would come to bloat him, to let him rot away. Dipper sucked in a rattling breath, his core splintering more and more with each passing moment. He forced his fingers to operate, opening the door to his bedroom and dragging his feet inside.

The Journals were exactly where he'd left them, safely zipped away in his luggage that he'd made no real effort to unpack in the... however long he'd been here. Time had no real meaning anymore. He hefted the weighty tomes with a grunt, stuffing them into his backpack once he'd relieved it of delicate electronics. He stared down at the glimpses of red leather covers, ones that he had become so intimately familiar with over the past decade. Days bled into weeks morphed into months spent poring through their musty pages, sitting in the dark with blacklights and scribbling with pens by the light of the setting sun. He'd hefted their familiar, comforting weight on his back into the woods countless times, updating passages and recording new information and lavishing their pages with all the care and attention he could muster. They had been so precious to him, once upon a time. But now..

Well, what use did kindling have for ink? He dragged their monumental weight now, just another burden that would prove of no use to him. He returned to Wendy after another arduous trip down the stairs, momentarily contemplating simply tossing himself down them. Maybe another time. He met her gaze for all of a moment after his return, flinching and averting his eyes immediately after doing so. He caught the tail end of her worried frown, and wished to be anywhere else in the world. Dipper choked down as steady a breath as he could manage, and spoke.

"M-Mabel... she's dead because of me," he croaked, all plans to try and break the truth in a gentle, concise manner shattering along with the rest of him. "T-there was never an intruder, or a funeral-I don't even know where her _body_ is, can't even bury my own _sister_ because I practically killed her _myself_ , I'm a _liar_ , I lied right to your face because I was so terrified but that's not an _excuse_ , there's _no_ excuse for what I've done, for what's happened because of me-" Dipper's ribs constricted around his lungs, strangling him from the inside as he gasped for breath, trying to force the words out even as he screamed at himself, klaxons wailing inside his head and deafening him, he was ruining everything all over again and he couldn't _breathe_ -

Dipper choked on the scent of soot as he was engulfed by a warm pressure, arms holding him upright even as he sputtered and gasped. "Breathe with me, Dipper. Inhale, one two three, exhale. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe with me. I'll help you, I promise, but I need you to breathe with me, okay?" Wendy's voice was as rough as pine bark, but it carried a calm, gentle weight with it. Dipper could hear her steady heartbeat, and feel her chest rise and fall with long, controlled breaths. He struggled to follow the simple rhythm, fought to unravel the twisted knot of his lungs, his constricted larynx, his fluttering esophagus. His choked gasps tapered off into shaky inhales and ragged exhales. Despite their fragility, they matched the soothing, repetitive pattern that Wendy had set for him. "You're doing great, Dip. Just keep it up. In, and out."

They stood together in the gift shop for longer than Dipper cared to know, simply breathing with one another. Slowly but surely the panic stewing in his gut diluted, as much as it was capable of doing so. "I.. I need... I need to tell you," he eventually murmured, feeling disconnected from his own vocal cords. "William, he's... Bill Cipher. He murdered Mabel because I didn't pay him back for a deal. But something happened to him, the longer he stayed in a human body. He developed emotions, including guilt and regret. I know he'd take it back if he could. I know he'd undo what happened, if there was a way. It's.. it's my fault, anyway-"

"Dipper." Wendy's voice was stern, and swimming with undercurrents of compassion. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. You can't blame yourself for what happened, for what _someone else_  did. I know it has to hurt, I know you're hurting so much that you don't even know what to do... but you can't blame yourself. It's not your fault, Dip. I promise."

"But it _has_ to be," Dipper croaked, trying to hold his crumbling pieces together. He was falling apart, everything was coming undone but Bill was going to make everything _better_ , he just had to last a little longer. "I could've warned her, done something, _anything_ more than what I did. But.. I guess it really doesn't matter anymore. We.. Bill and I, some other demon found out about his human form. It's been following us for weeks. We were going to trap it and banish it, but... we were too late. But it-it's okay," he clarified, with all of the earnest belief that he could dredge up. "Bill is going to fix everything."

Wendy had nothing to say in return. Bill Cipher, the dream demon that she'd only heard disturbing recountings and warnings about, was live and in the flesh. And he'd clearly done _something_ to Dipper, beyond the killing of Mabel. Dipper was unwell, and she could see that from a mile away. He was hurting, and scared, and confused. And no matter what had happened, no matter how his talk of believing in Mabel's murderer made her sick to her stomach, she had to help him. But Wendy knew she couldn't do it alone. She was a friend, not a psychiatrist. "..C'mon, Dip. We should find Stan and Ford, and figure out what to do."

Dipper was stricken by the thought of seeing his grunkles again, of having them _know_ that he'd let Bill escape from the Nightmare Realm. That he'd allowed something they'd only just prevented by the skin of their teeth, ten years ago. But.. they'd understand, right? They'd understand why it was necessary. Dipper's ability to delude himself was deteriorating with each attempt. "..Okay."

Dipper Pines and Wendy Corduroy opened the front door of the Mystery Shack, and stood on the precipice of the end of the world. 


	64. Orange Colored Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I can't guarantee that there won't be more like it.

 

Bill Cipher gazed upon the town of Gravity Falls from several hundred feet in the air, no longer ablaze but still burning in the red and orange of apocalyptia. He could feel the prisoners of the Nightmare Realm stirring, awakening from slumber as the energies of the physical realm leaked into their cage. They would be coming soon, which meant he had to establish dominance very quickly. This was HIS domain, and any dimensional horror that attempted to stake its claim would either serve him, or be atomized.

That was especially true for a particular demon that had well overstepped his boundaries. It had already slunk away, attempting to burrow deep into the crust of the Earth. But that wouldn't be enough. Molta would pay for his disrespect. " **I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE, YOU SLUG**. Ý̀̀͟O̡̧̢͞͞U͏̷̴̷͠ ̨͏̵́͝C̴̨A͏͏̵̢́N̢̡̡̕'̴̨̢T̛́͟͝ ̵̛H̸͏̢͘I̷̡̛͝͏D̶̛̀E̶̴̵͟͠ ̶̨̀̕F̡͟͝Ŕ̢̀͝Ó̴̧͞M̢͜ ̢̧͟M̷͢͢E̡̨̡͢͡." Bill's infinite gaze turned back and forth, until he caught sight of a trail of smoldering trees, leading into the forest.

With a trio of sweeping hand gestures, hundreds of trees cracked and buckled before they were ripped straight from the earth. Within moments they were engulfed in a cerulean blaze, burning like tissue paper and raining showers of ash onto the triangular clearing that Bill had created. Stood within it was the pathetic heap of demonic sludge that Bill had been searching for. "What was that phrase you're so fond of, again? 'Master of none, fuel for the fire'?" He descended to land in the field of ash, staring down the mass of magmatic ooze. Clawing shadows gathered at the corners of his vision; a pathetic attempt at intimidation.

" ~~BLOATed deLuDeD InTOXiCatEd PoWER bEYond YOU~~." Molta slithered through the piles of ash, stirring them up in swirling clouds of embers. Motes of heat danced through the air, pulling more and more clumps of ash along with them. They too ignited, twisting and twirling and gathering and burning.

"Power beyond me? You don't seem to realize what's happening, here. I̸̢͘͝ ̵̀́͜͢A̢̛̛͘M̴͡͡ ̢̡͠͏T̢͞R̶̵͢U͏̵͢Ȩ͘ ̶̡̛͝P̢̧͜O̕͢͟W̵̧͘͠È́͢R̷̛͢.͜ ̧̛̀̀" Bill's triangular pupil swiveled to and fro, tracking the gusts of embers that slowly surrounded him. The Eye of Providence gleamed as it stared straight through the other demon, gazing past layers of crust and mantle to the feeble, white hot core within.

" ~~BRigHter BURnIng fasTER FaDInG.~~ " The molten veins that shone through Molta's ashen exterior began thickening and brightening, its pitted eyes locked with Bill's. The air grew stifling, lines of heat wobbling and distorting the growing mass of embers. " ~~HeLP yOu BURN.~~ " In an instant the motes of fire detonated like dying stars, blossoming into orbs of devastating heat. The entire clearing lit up into an infernal firestorm, howling, crackling fire snapping at the air around it, insatiably devouring the oxygen it was fed.

The fires were snuffed in an instant, leaving only blackened soot to settle onto the earth below. Bill dusted off his suit jacket, his eye burning brighter than any flame could ever hope to. "Nice light show, Molty. Not your best, but I'd give it a solid seven out of ten. Now I've got something real special for you, short and sweet! It's a performance that'll Ḱ̸̛͘Ń͘͞Ơ̡̢͝͠C̴̛͜͜͠K̷͘ ̢Y͏̸̧̧͡O̷̷̡̧̢Ú̸̸̧̕ ̛̛͟D̷͘E̷̢͢A̶̵͝D̡͢͡. **BOOM**!" All six arms thrust outwards, the air sparking and howling as it was rent in twain. Molta's unearthly shrieks joined the chorus of suffering for an agonizing moment, before the demon simply disintegrated out of existence. Molten flesh peeled away as if subjected to a nuclear detonation, physical matter scattering to the corners of the universe. In the barest hint of a moment, Molta Singlar was gone.

"Boy, glad to have that over with!" Bill exclaimed to the triangular scorch mark, using one pair of arms to shake his own hand and another to pat himself on the back. He glanced at a conjured watch on a fourth wrist, gasping aloud at the sight of numbers and symbols melting together in an incomprehensible mess. "I can't believe I almost forgot to set up stage two, Bill exclaimed to himself! Third person narration sure is fun! But there's no time for that, because Pine Tree is probably awake by now, and he deserves a warm welcome to Weirdmageddon!" Bill winked at his watch, which screamed in a tinny little voice. "OH, you flatterer!" He cackled at a shrieking pitch as he took off for the town, excited beyond measure.  
\---  
The air was absolutely, unbearably still when Dipper stepped out into it. It was as if every breeze, every current and front and storm on the Earth had ceased to exist, leaving behind only a stifling, leaden haze. It was like walking straight through a brick wall, and Dipper sputtered out a cough as the unearthly consistency irritated his lungs. "W-what.." The world around him was bled of every color that wasn't orange, red, or black. Even his own skin and clothes were painted in the limited palette, and he turned to find that the green of Wendy's flannel had completely drained away, and her hair had lit up like the discharge of a flare.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she muttered, fingers tensing on the wooden handle of her axe. Her eyes drifted to Dipper, who was marked up in muted shades of red and orange, so much dimmer than their surroundings. She bit her lip and refrained from mentioning it. "Any idea where the Stans would be?"

"I..I'm not sure. They said they were going out to collect Harpy feathers, and I don't quite remember where-" Dipper paused as he was struck with an obvious realization. "Right. The Journals." He could have hit himself for his own stupidity. He shrugged off his backpack and dug through it, pulling out Journal 2 and flipping through a myriad of pages. "It should be.. somewhere around here..."

The unsettling silence that encompassed them was suddenly shattered by a noise that proved to be even more discomfiting; laughter, intertwined with terrified screams. Dipper's head snapped up, and he met Wendy's worried gaze with one of horror. He could never have mistaken that laugh. Whatever was happening, whatever events were unfolding-he needed to be there. This was his responsibility. "Wendy, I need you to find Stan and Ford. Take the Journals," he fumbled to shove Journal 2 back into his bag, zipping it back up and thrusting it out at her, "and let them know I'm okay. I'm going to try and talk Bill down from whatever's going on."

"Dipper, do you _really_ think I'm gonna let you just.. run off to confront some demon maniac? If we're doing anything, we're doing it togethe-" Wendy was silenced by the sheer, unliving dread and resignation on Dipper's face. Every light of hope and belief had been snuffed out, and black crept in on the remaining smatters of orange and red.

"Wendy... he'll kill you. There will be no hesitation. I'm not letting anyone else die because of me, okay? Go find Stan and Ford, and if anything happens... I know the three of you can fix things." He gently placed the straps of the backpack in her open hand, and closed her fingers around them. "Everything will be okay," he lied, lips twitching into a pathetic excuse for a reassuring smile. Before any more protests could be made, he took off for the town, disappearing into the haze of shadows that thrived between the light. Wendy watched him leave, tracking the fading silhouette of the wisp of a specter, one that used to be someone she knew.  
\---  
"-an run but you can't hide! You all belong to me, and I A̴̡Ļ̕͞͝͏W̶͜͟͡͡A͏́Y̨Ś̶̡͢͝ ̵҉G̡̧͟͝͠E̵T͡͏ ̸̧̢̡Ẁ̸͝͞͞Ḩ̛A̡̛͟T̴̴͢͠͡ ̵̶̨͝͝I̡͞ ̵̢͢͞W͜A̷͘͞͞Ń͡T̶̨!" Bill cackled hysterically as the townsfolk scattered through the street, and with a lazy wave of a few hands he conjured up a swarm of eyeballs. Each one sprouted a pair of wings, made of skin and sinew (or skinew, the word Bill had burned into every dictionary in town, before burning every dictionary in town), and fanned out in a massive cloud of soft tissue and unending sight. He wiped a tear of pride from the corner of his eye, and glanced back at the rift in the sky. If his calculations were right, he had just enough time before the party for- "PINE TREE!"

Dipper flinched so hard he nearly fell over, from where he'd been half hidden behind the pharmacy. Deciding that there was no way Bill wouldn't find him, he slowly, reluctantly stepped out into the middle of the street. "B..Bill," he greeted shakily, attempting to plaster on a smile. The demon was even more terrifying than he had imagined, a true manifestation of nightmares. But it was still the same Bill. The one with a blazing fire in his eye, and a smile to swallow the sun.

"I'm so glad you made it before the celebrations began, Pine Tree! I have a whole thing planned out, I know you'll love it." Bill fell lightly onto his feet, clearing his throat before he began twirling down the street, steps drunken and swaying. A set of floating brass instruments and a full sized piano appeared in mid air, and began playing themselves. "Ohhh, I was walkin' along, mindin' my business, when out of an orange colored sky-" Bill clapped his first pair of hands together, producing a brilliant flash of color, "FLASH," he slapped the second two together, creating a horrific bang that rocked the foundations of the town, "BAM," the third set cracked against each other, and a shower of golden sparks rained from the sky directly above Dipper's head, causing him to flinch and cover his head with his arms, "ALAKAZAM! Wonderful you came by."

Dipper yelped as a pair of arms grabbed at his torso, yanking him into a twirl that had his head swimming. Bill grinned down at him, the absolute picture of horror. "I was humming a tune, minding my business, when out of that orange colored view- FLASH! BAM! ALAKAZAM! I got a look at you." Bill dipped his Pine Tree, drinking in the look of fear on his face with immense satisfaction and an easily ignorable sour curl. "One look and I yelled timber! Watch out for flying glass!" Dozens of windows shattered around them, showers of glass shards propelling themselves through the air and refracting the light from the rift in a dazzling display of twinkling color. "'Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out I went into a spin and I started to shout-this is it! This is it I'VE BEEN HIT!" Dipper was spun like a top, barely able to see beyond the whirl of colors that his vision had become.

"I was walking along, minding my business," Bill's voice lowered to a smooth crawl, like millions of fingers gently caressing every inch of Dipper's skin. "When love came and hit me in the eye! FLASH! BAM! ALAKAZAM! Out of an orange colored sky!" Dipper attempted to open his mouth to speak over the music, only to be silenced by another dip that had the ends of his hair brushing asphalt.

"I was walking along, minding my business," Bill crooned in a voice that made Dipper's skin attempt to peel off his body. "When love came and hit me in the eye. FLASH," the rift flashed a myriad of otherworldly colors, "BAM," the rift pulsed in a shockwave that rattled Dipper down to the bone, "ALAKAZAM! Out of an orange colored, purple striped, pretty green polka dot skyyyyy!" Dozens of alien forms began bleeding through the rift, unearthly in every way imaginable, and grotesque in a way that made Dipper's blood freeze inside of him. Bill grinned down at him with a thousand acres of needles, his eyes alight with mania. His voice carried far over the howls and gurgles of interdimensional monsters.

"FLASH! BAM! ALAKAZAM AND GOODBYYYYYYYYYYYYE!" 


	65. Perspective `

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for being patient with the slow updates, as well as for the continued support with comments and kudos. It means a lot to me.

The final strings of blaring brass and tinkling ivory stretched out into an unearthly screech of tortured instruments, providing a fitting soundtrack for the end of the world. Dimensional horror after cosmic nightmare poured through the rift that tore the sky asunder, twisted collections of molecules pulled together into beings that defied description. Dipper's vision began to grow hazy and unfocused before long, and he ripped his frozen gaze away from the rift, only to be subjected to the reality shattering grin of Bill Cipher.

"Isn't it great, Pine Tree? You finally get to meet all of my friends! Well, 'friends' is a bit of a strong word. More like... 'fellow prisoners that can't stand me'. But don't worry, none of them possess even a FRACTION of the power that I have at my disposal!" Bill broke down into shrieking giggles, using a pair of arms to hoist Pine Tree into the air as he twirled gleefully. "Ohhh, it's SO GOOD to FINALLY be able to show you Weirdmageddon! You'll love it, I guarantee it."

Dipper hung like a dead rabbit in Bill's grip, the rusted gears in his head whirring and creaking and losing teeth as he attempted to process what was happening. "Y-you said you'd make everything better," he managed to utter, simultaneously attempting to meet an all seeing gaze whilst being repulsed by the sight of the face it resided within. "Bill, this isn't-you can't-"

"Ohoho, but I CAN, WILL, and HAVE, Pine Tree!" Bill's eye shone akin to a thermonuclear detonation, and his elated grin could have shorn through steel. "And I AM making everything better! You just didn't specify HOW you wanted me to make things better, so I'm adding a bit of my own flavor to things!" One hand flicked a cloud of black pepper into Pine Tree's face, causing him to cough and sputter around it.

"Y-you're not-" Dipper was cut off by his own shriek as he was flung up into the air, weightlessness settling in the pit of his stomach before the pull of gravity hardened it into lead. He sucked in a breath to scream again, only to have it knocked out of him as a gangly arm caught him under the ribs. Grasping hands twisted and manipulated him in mid air until he was sat securely on top of a razor edged shoulder, his gaze refocusing as he reoriented himself. He suddenly wished it hadn't bothered, considering he had been angled to face directly out towards the tide of nightmare creatures that had descended upon the town.

Bill cleared his throat, somehow catching the attention of the tide of Nightmare Realm inhabitants that had finished oozing into reality. "ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP YOU FREAKS! WEIRDMAGEDDON, AFTER A SHORT DELAY, IS NOW IN FULL SWING! PLEASE, HOLD YOUR APPLAUSE." There was silence, save for the subsonic thrum of the rift. Bill coughed into a fist, a pair of his hands discreetly clapping behind his back. "Oh stop, you're too kind!" Bill glanced up with a thermite grin, only for it to be snuffed out by the sight of the various abominations shuffling/staggering/oozing away in disinterest. "Oh, I see how it is. You all have to wait a measly few years, and suddenly I'm old news? W̷̧̛Ȩ̛͜͢Ĺ̨L̶̶̀ ̨͟͞B̴̶̶̧̕O͠͞Y̢͏,̛͠ ̴͠͞͠͞H̷̴̢̛Á̵̕͟͠V̧̨̛͝E͘͢͞ ̛I ̶ ̴̧͢͞͞GÒ̢̕͟͢T̸̸̢̨͢ ̧̛͘͝͡S̷ỚM̸̶̛͘͜È̡͡ ҉̷̴̸̧F̷͞R͏̢̕͝E̶͟Ş͡H̨͠ ̵̵́N̴̛͠Ę͜͠W̷̡̢̕͢S̷͢͢ ̷͢͠͠F̸̀͟O̷̢͝R̡̛ ̷̨Y͠͝Ó̴̀͠U̕͞͞.͞͝͏ ̨"

"CAN IT CIPHER," One of the monsters screeched in a nasally whine, a creature twisted and turned in on itself a thousand times over, until it resembled little more than a fleshy spire with a drooping, tooth filled orifice and a half dozen sickly thin appendages. "You're all talk, always have been! How do we even know that you're the one that let us out? You're probably just here to steal all the glory!" What followed was a horrifying chorus of unearthly sounds that could have been interpreted as agreement from the other beings.

"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT," warbled an amorphous, dripping silhouette. It had no clear shape, constantly blurring and shifting into different forms. "WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT AFTER ALL THIS TIME, YOU JUST HAPPENED TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR ATROCIOUS FAILURES?" A smattering of laughter rang out, colliding into a cacophonous eruption of metallic screeches and organic gurgling. Dipper could have sworn something wet and warm began to trickle from his ears. He waited for the inevitable explosion from Bill, a detonation that could level the entire town in a single breath.

But it didn't come. Bill's grin stretched beyond inhuman proportions, wrapping around the back of his head in a crescent strip of teeth. The laughter of the monsters deadened into silence, only to be replaced by Bill's own howling cackles. "Oh boy, I forgot how funny you guys were! Who'd have thought billions of years in the Nightmare Realm would allow for a sense of humor, am I right? Or even a sense of D̴͠È́͜F̵̶̀I͜͠A̶͟͜͞͝N̢͡͡Ç̡̡̡É̡̛͜͢.̶̴͜͞ ̵ But I can certainly tell you that it didn't make you any smarter! O͢͏͞R̸̀͏ ̸͘A̶̛͞͞Ń͜͠͏Y͝͡͠ ̷̛L̀͜Ę̴S̀͝S̵̴͜ ̛͏̀F̕L̸̕͘͜͞Ą̴̸̸͘M͏͘̕͝M̕À͟B̧́Ĺ̶E͟͞͝.̡͟͡ ̸͡͡" Bill idly snapped a quartet of fingers, cerulean flames consuming every molecule of oxygen that surrounded the two monsters that had spoken up. They barely had time to gurgle before they were absolutely incinerated, leaving behind only organic ash and a dark, oily stain on the asphalt.

Absolute silence followed. "Yeah, not so tough now, are ya? So let's lay down a few ground rules, huh? This one?" Bill grasped Pine Tree by the collar of his shirt, waving him around like a ragdoll despite the tint of green quickly rising to the human's face. "This one belongs to Ḿ̶͘͟E̷̡̡̛͟.͘ Anyone that even THINKS about touching him? Well, I'm sure you can guess what'll happen. Numbero two-no, you all answer to your ol' pal Bill. This is MY world, and you disgusting conglomerates of stardust and nightmare fumes are extremely lucky that I decided to let you exist in it. We'll see how long that lasts. Other than that, I couldn't care less what you do. Now get out of my sight, I'm tired of looking at you freaks."

No further words needed to be spoken. The crowd of abominable horrors wasted no time in beginning to rampage through the town, using wanton destruction as a cloak from Bill's all seeing gaze. Said demon settled back in an armchair composed of golden bricks, one arm settling Pine Tree on the arm rest as another pair stretched aboved his head. "Geez, I forgot how annoying it was dealing with those guys. It's too bad my old crew had to go and get themselves all caught up in time prison for the next fourteen trillion years. Really puts a damper on things when you host a party for people you don't know very well, am I right?"

Dipper swallowed a globule of bile, trying to blink spots of color out of his vision. He gripped the bricks underneath him as tightly as his fingers would allow, very pointedly ignoring the several dozen feet between himself and the ground. His head was being thrashed about by torrents of disbelief, fear, and despair, all violently whipping him in different directions. He attempted to formulate words, a few false starts preceding his vocalizations. "Bill.. why are you doing this?" It was the first of a million questions that crowded the inside of his head, each of them more disjointed and desperate than the last.

"Because I can!" Bill answered cheerily, stroking one hand down Pine Tree's back like a beloved pet and ignoring the flinch that resulted from it. "You're not happy, and that makes me not happy, and if I'm not happy I can't make you happy, so obviously I have to make myself happy to help you be happy!" The demon flashed a bright grin, one that reminded Dipper of the sort of undersea predators that lurked at the bottom of the ocean. He could easily imagine the light of the Eye of Providence drawing him in, only to be devoured by the maw below. As though that hadn't happened already, Dipper reflected bleakly. Bill had consumed everything that Dipper was composed of, teeth tearing through rotten bark and splintering wood and stripped branches. Everything had peeled away to reveal a feeble core, that Bill could grasp and twist and do with as he pleased. He'd cracked and pulled and bent until it was in splinters, and then he attempted to nuture new life from it. What the portal brought was not a soothing rainfall, but a flooding deluge that was sure to drown him out.

"Do you really think this will make you happy?" Dipper whispered, a breath of noise that the air around it nearly smothered. Despite the paltry volume, it resonated through Bill like a church bell. For a scant few seconds, his chest clenched with a thrumming ache, as if a gravity well were attempting to collapse his ribcage inwards. At least until the blazing power in his chest burned that pain to ash. N̷͟O͢͠T̷ ͢I̶͞M͢P̧͘͡O̷̕RT̵͟͠͏Á̡̛Ǹ͜T͞͞͡.̷͝͠ ̶̷̡̛

"I think you need to learn when to stop asking questions," Bill replied in a cheerful manner, the underlying threat lurking just beneath placid waters. "Anyway, what say we settle down, and enjoy the fireworks from atop a proper throne?" Bill snapped a pair of deformed fingers, and they sparked like flint against steel. The earth visibly rattled beneath them as countless golden bricks rose up out of a patch of forest, linking themselves together into a monumental floating pyramid. The bricks were so gold they were nearly orange, and had a strangely oily sheen that refracted the colors of the rift in a swirl of cosmic color. "Pretty snazzy, right?" Bill prompted, receiving nothing but a despairing glance. "I knew you'd like it!" He continued, in a slightly more strained tone. He stood up from his conjured chair, dissolving it in a flurry of light motes and proceeding seamlessly up a set of glimmering, translucent stairs. Pine Tree showed no visible reaction to Bill's efforts, but he ignored it. Pine Tree would come around, he told himself. He just needed to be shown that this was for the best. He just needed to see that everything was getting better.

Bill had always been a fantastic liar. 


	66. Crumbling

Bill had decided to make a few choice interior decorating decisions upon conjuring his pyramid. Instead of screaming heads and entrails and fractals that flashed colors that didn't even exist, he'd gone a bit more... vanilla. As vanilla as he was comfortable with, at least. The moment he entered the pyramid with Pine Tree in tow, they were encapsulated by galactic wonders. The walls, floors, and ceilings gave off the illusion of stretching into the infinite of deep space, swirls of nebulae and twinkling stars lighting their path. Bill blended in seamlessly with the darkness between stars, and he kept a tight hold on Pine Tree's hand to prevent him from being... sidetracked.

Dipper kept his eyes low and his footsteps steady as they ventured through the starry halls, attempting to avoid openly marvelling at the unfamiliar swathes of space that stretched before him. It was beyond beautiful, but he wouldn't admit it. Bill didn't need any inflation of his ego, at this point. "Where are we going? Are you taking me to some sort of throne made out of human corpses, or something?"

"What? No, of course not! You are so ridiculous, Pine Tree," Bill laughed very loudly as he made mental adjustments to the composition of his throne. "Besides, we aren't going to see the throne just yet. I thought I'd take you somewhere you could enjoy yourself." Bill turned abruptly down an almost invisible hallway, feeling the tug on his hand as Pine Tree was thrown off balance. He threw open a set of wooden doors that looked extremely out of place, and entered an enormous ballroom. It was completely untouched by the galactic theming, instead resembling something more traditional. A massive stretch of tiled floors, composed of interlocking black and gold triangles, along with a number of massively intricate chandeliers, each bearing dozens of lit candles that burned with Bill's own cerulean flames. A mural depicting the Eye of Providence stared down at them from the ceiling, and the walls were lined with marble pillars flanking stained glass, each bearing a rendition of either a pine tree or Dipper himself. There was a lone piano up on a stage, and Dipper could faintly make out the dull white of bone.

"What _is_ all of this?" Dipper breathed, shoes clacking against the tile as he set out further into the room, wonder overcoming his distress for all of a moment. He squinted at a stained glass window that appeared to be displaying himself, wearing some sort of-Dipper flushed and averted his eyes to the monstrous demon that accompanied him, attempting to ground himself. "Why are we here?"

"It's a ballroom, of course! And why do you THINK we're here?" Bill took two of Pine Tree's hands in his own, and a sudden surge of brass played from nowhere. He grinned down at his human, and earned a flinch. He waited for his cue to begin swaying, voice lifting in song. "Blue moon! You saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own-"

"I don't want to dance with you," Dipper stated as fiercely as he could manage, feeling increasingly meek and vulnerable at the hands of Bill. He ripped his hands from the demon's grasp, and had a feeling he had only managed to do so because Bill allowed him.

There was a record scratch as Bill blinked at him owlishly, before another flesh rending grin lit up on his face. Another tune began playing moments later."I won't dance, don't ask me, I won't dance-"

"Stop it," Dipper interrupted, a tremor in his voice. "Stop singing. Stop the music. I don't want to dance with you." He shrank in on himself at the exact moment that Bill's pupil engorged, swallowing swathes of gold in its path. "I want you to stop all of this. Please."

Bill flared up as if moments from eruption, his shadow stretching behind him until it seemed he stood a hundred feet high, before he released a bright laugh. "Ohhh, I get it!" He cleared his throat, and another track began moments later, seemingly starting in the middle of a song. "I'm never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm-"

The sharp crack of wood against wood followed as Dipper slammed the doors to the ballroom shut behind him. He heard Bill's voice utter his name; shocked, hurt, pleading. He ignored it along with the fist clenching his heart, attempting to navigate down the endless, twinkling hallways as quickly as his feet would allow him. He lost track of his surroundings within moments, and ground to a halt in the middle of an intersection to try and reorient himself. All he had to do was count the turns he made, and eventually he'd-what, exactly? What would he find here, in Bill's castle? There wasn't going to be a big red button that returned everything to normal, or a secret room with a spell to close the rift, or an exit from the pyramid so that he could at least splatter himself on the forest floor. This was Bill Cipher's domain. The _world_ was Bill Cipher's domain, now. And that included him, as well.

Bill gazed through the intricate network of rooms and hallways that composed the four hundred and thirty nine floors of his pyramid, his eye blazing bright enough to make the stars twinkling on the walls look like cheap LEDs. But his efforts were wasted, considering that while he was busy scanning the interior of the pyramid, he nearly tripped over the very thing he was looking for. "Oh, there you are!" Bill grinned down at the form of Pine Tree, curled up against the wall and appearing so very small and fragile. Bill scooped him off the floor like he would a toddler, but with less chucking him at the wall. "You should be careful, it's easy to get lost here."

Dipper attempted to wriggle free of Bill's grasp, but his grip was so tight it was as if they had been welded together. He felt indignation and defiance attempt to flare up, but their fuel was so scarce that he managed only a faint scowl before despair hammered him down. There was no getting out of this. Bill's power was absolute. Stan, Ford, and Wendy would surely come looking for him, and try to stage some sort of rescue attempt, and they'd be dead instantaneously. There would be no pomp or circumstance, no heroic battle, no final breath, no last goodbye; cold, unending dark would follow in the wake of an instant of the greatest heat ever known. He choked on air at the thought of it, and it was drowned out under the weight of Bill's endless chatter.

"-egular fireworks, but then I thought; hey, why not use military grade explosives? Bigger booms are better, as I always say! I don't actually know if I've ever said that, but there's a strong possibility that I've said almost every combination of syllables in existence at least once-" Bill spoke endlessly, unconsciously attempting to soothe his own nerves. It also left his mind free to wander. One eye trailed down to glance at Pine Tree, noting the ebb and flow of panic and bleak acceptance on his face. The presence of his favorite human was almost insignificant in his arms, compared to the warm, solid, un-hindering weight it used to be. Everything about his Pine Tree was less than it had been. Less spirit, less defiance, less emotion... less smiles, less laughter, less warm looks and willing physical contact and endearing sarcasm and- S̴̨̢͘͡T̴̕̕͢Ó̡P͏̶͘ ̢͏́̀T̀̀H̸IN̕̕͜͝K̵̕͠͡I͟N͏̴́G͡͡.̷̡͜͝ ́͟͟

"We're here!" Bill sang in a tone that was wire tight, the grin on his face bolted on and his triangular pupil darting in multiple directions at once. His sudden exclamation had Dipper raising his head from where it had been lolling, eyes blinking against the sudden increase in ambient light levels. The room they had entered was utterly bare of everything but black bricks, sconces and tapestries lining the walls, and a single lonely throne sitting atop a pedestal, directly in front of a window that let in a flood of orange light. It looked vaguely Egyptian, from what Dipper could make out, a shining gold frame painted with ancient hieroglyphs. A crest rested on the back of the throne as a makeshift headrest, depicting the Eye of Horus inside a triangle, acting as the pupil of the Eye of Providence. As narcissistic and self-congratulatory as it was, Dipper had been expecting something much more... grandiose.

"This, ah-was supposed to be the party room, you know? My gang and I would hang out here before going off to-well, that's not really important, considering they didn't show. B-but you and I can still have a good time here!" Bill proposed with false cheer, setting Pine Tree down onto his feet and gesturing widely at the empty space around them. He wilted slightly, before forcing himself to perk back up. "Here, let me just-" Bill snapped several sets of fingers, producing a fold-out table covered in a cheap plastic table cloth, along with a bowl of worryingly red punch and a platter of cheese and crackers. "That's... that's a thing humans have at parties, right? OH WAIT BALLOONS." Bill made a sweeping gesture, and a half dozen partially deflated balloons slowly fell from the ceiling. He coughed into his fist. "Um-"

"Are you... okay?" Try as he might, Dipper couldn't quash the feelings of concern that welled up within him. Bill was a monster, through and through. He knew that better than anyone. But he also knew there _had_ to be more than that. Even two dimensional beings would develop some sort of depth, once they were thrust into the third dimension. Right?

Bill propped up a grin that was too large for his face, a blinding streak of white that illuminated a being of absolute darkness. And like any perfect uniformity held under the scrutiny of light, the cracks began to show. "What, me? Of-of course I am! Why wouldn't I be? Everything is absolutely peachy." Bill made direct eye contact to convey his fabricated sincerity, only to find himself consumed, not for the first time, by a gaze that had no true power of its own. Watery brown eyes set deep into a pale, haggard face held him in their unwavering grasp, and saw him for everything he was: unsure, nervous, confused, frustrated-a liar. Bill grit his teeth and banished the smile from his face, one pair of hands tugging at his hair as another gestured widely in front of him, the last set clasping behind his back. "How is it, that with all the knowledge in the universe, I STILL don't know what to do with you? I know how to make you hurt, how to make you bleed, how to crush your hopes and slaughter your dreams and turn you into NOTHING. But that knowledge doesn't help me make you smile, and laugh, and-be happy! You keep saying you want me to stop this, but I CAN'T! After a trillion years, I FINALLY have EVERYTHING I've ever wanted. Why would you want to take that away from me?"

Dipper could have laughed at the truly pitiable expression that had taken up residence on Bill's monstrous visage. "Bill.. you've taken _everything_ from me. My home, my life, my.. my family," he uttered, forcing himself not to trip up over the words. "And every scrap that remained, I gave to you willingly. But I guess that wasn't enough for you. You always need more." Dipper sighed out a rattling breath, and for the first time in his life, felt a weariness that could not be ignored, or combated. It settled in the marrow of his bones and hardened into lead, weighing him down until he was sure he'd crumble. "..I think I want to leave."

Bill's head snapped up, limbs freezing in place. He felt a breath of frost sear his molten interior, leaving a blackened strip behind. "Leave? You-you can't leave, you have to stay here with me! Why would you want to leave, anyway? I can give you anything you want here! I even have a room for you, I know you'll-I think you'll really like it!" Bill's own wild eyes scanned every inch of Pine Tree's wilted countenance, and saw nothing but utter exhaustion. "Y..you can't leave, Pine Tree, you HAVE to stay with me!"

Dipper swallowed a lump of razors, but didn't bother raising his head, or opening his mouth. Silence would speak louder than he ever could. He missed the darkening of Bill's eye, gold dimming from a blaze to a petulant smolder. He missed the droop of razor edged shoulders, the slack of twisting limbs, the departure of hope.

"...You'll come back, when you're sick of wandering in that dirt town. And don't even pretend like you'll leave. There's nothing for you outside of Gravity Falls. ...I'll be watching." Bill didn't even bother snapping his fingers, merely twitching a hand to blink Pine Tree out of his pyramid, and deposit him somewhere on the earth below. He stared blearily at the empty space that had once contained the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

Bill Cipher toppled his throne with a scream that only he could hear.


	67. Smoke

Disorientation struck Dipper upside the head with the force of a hammer's blow, his senses skewed to the point of a complete lack of functionality. The world was a blur of orange while his eyes attempted to focus, and he wasn't quite sure which way was up anymore. He groped for a solid surface, hands scraping against asphalt. Road. He was on a road. He cautiously attempted to lift his head, the slowly sharpening world swimming with the slightest movement. He grit his teeth and endured the wave of dizziness and nausea that resulted, settling himself in a sitting position. One hand found its way to his face, brushing stray bits of gravel off his cheek.

Location. He needed to figure out where exactly he was. Dipper's gaze flickered to the thick forest that surrounded him on either side, and the endless stretch of road that sat directly in front of him. He was outside the town itself, at least. And whatever nightmare had descended upon Gravity Falls didn't appear to have made it to his location. It was eerily silent, the forest made sinister by the greatly limited palette and the brooding darkness that flourished under the canopy. Dipper was fairly sure he didn't want to find out what lurked within. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of destruction and mayhem, just barely audible.

Eventually he managed to convince himself that dying of dehydration in the middle of the road wasn't his preferred method of death, and somehow worked up the strength to stand on his own two feet. He turned around to take in the rest of his surroundings, and stopped short at the sight of a familiar sign. 'Welcome to Gravity Falls!' it mocked, barely legible in the darkness that had consumed the world.

And Dipper _laughed_. He laughed himself into hysterics, clutching at his chest with one hand as his lungs burned from exertion. He laughed until tears poured down his face, until it adopted an unsettling resemblance to a familiar cackle. Dipper coughed and choked on the air itself, heavy and sour and uncomfortably warm. Bill had put him here on purpose, he was sure. He knew that Dipper couldn't leave, even with the open road laid out before him. There was nothing for him in the outside world. Everything left was contained within the heart of the apocalypse. And so he walked, legs trembling with the effort of carrying him back to his own personal hell.  
\---  
Bill sat alone in the remnants of his throne room. His throne was toppled and shattered, the Eye of Horus staring mournfully up at the ceiling. His tapestries depicting all of his proudest moments were scorched tatters, hanging by mere threads. Every torch bearing sconce had been extinguished and broken, heaps of twisted metal barely attached to the walls and splinters of wood piled on the floor. Even the brick walls were marred by numerous cracks and burns. Bill sat alone, like he always had been.

"He loves me.." The crack of bone echoed through the cavernous room, followed by the sickening tearing of flesh. "He loves me not..." Bill stared down at the mutilated hand that rested in his grip, bloody stumps marking where all six of the fingers had been ripped free. He sighed heavily, and tossed it aside. It wasn't the same when it didn't belong to someone real. "You're no help at all, Sixer. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent." He glared over at the conjured corpse of Stanford Pines, propped up against the wall and missing a hand. Bill spitefully kicked it over, and it slumped to the floor. "Pathetic..."

Bill Cipher, Master of the Mind and All Seeing Eye, was lonely. It was something he had never once expected to experience, despite the plethora of other disgusting human emotions he'd been afflicted with. Ever since he'd opened himself up to those gross feelings, he'd never once even considered the thought that Pine Tree wouldn't be with him. For whatever reason, he'd been naive enough to believe that the human would always want to be in his presence. Obviously that hadn't been the case. The moment Bill had decided to begin Weirdmageddon, they'd begun drifting apart. Bill could have screamed at his own stupidity, thinking that ending the world would somehow fix everything.

He just didn't understand why it DIDN'T fix everything. Pine Tree had virtually no ties left to the world anyway, right? And it wasn't like Bill was actively trying to slaughter the remaining Pines, or had ripped Red's stupid obnoxious head right off her shoulders. It was almost laughable, how after thousands of years of expertly manipulating and carefully studying humanity, he still barely understood them.

Maybe he wasn't meant to. Maybe he really was meant to just be a monster. Maybe Pine Tree was wrong about him. Bill snarled at the open air, crunching the heel of his shoe through the back of fake-Sixer's skull. The resulting splatter of brains and bone fragments provided him no satisfaction. He sneered down at the mess and swiped a hand through the air in agitation. The body dissipated into motes of light, which soon blinked out of existence. Mutilating a corpse wouldn't fuel his fire, especially when it was one that hadn't even been alive. He briefly entertained the thought of making that mutilation a reality, but reluctantly dissmissed it. He'd already screwed everything up once; doing it a second time wouldn't fix things.

Bill snapped his teeth in frustration, and finally decided on a course of action; he was leaving Gravity Falls. It was time to spread his chaos to the rest of the world, and get as far away from the town he hated as possible. Bill stalked out of the throne room, walls hastily reshuffling to provide a straight path for him to walk through. Sure, he wasn't limited by such pathetic concepts as 'space' and 'time' and could instantaneously transport anywhere he wanted, but that wouldn't help him blow off steam quite like leaving a smouldering trail of destruction in his wake. Pine Tree wouldn't notice if a few hodunk, nowhere towns were burned down, right?

The world outside his pyramid, he soon found, was horribly boring. The sight of the town of Gravity Falls in shambles gave him a brief little thrill of satisfaction, but beyond that he only felt a dull impatience. The dark flame that burned in his chest, hotter than ever before, urged him to twist and bend and break whatever remained of the reality he had so heatedly detested. To fan the flames beyond the paltry destruction his fellow prisoners had wrought. As the master of both reality and the mind, he could manifest whatever he pleased. All except for one thing.

Bill shook the thought and ascended lazily through the sky, clouds of smoke, ash, and embers swirling around him. The town was certainly beyond any help but his own. He briefly recalled something about saving the town from Molta, but discarded that thought as well. He was marking his territory, and nothing else. It didn't matter if he.. had insinuated otherwise, with Pine Tree. It didn't matter that he'd lied. That he'd taken advantage of the human. That he'd broken his trust. That was Bill Cipher's forte, after all. Isolating himself from the only person who had ever, genuinely wanted to be around the real him was what he did best.

Bill came to a halt in mid air, two hands grasping at his head as four more groped weakly at his torso, trying to rip out the horrid ache that had taken up residence within. It was as though a cannonball had been launched directly into his ribcage. He hunched over, spine curving dramatically, and contemplated how a being with limitless power could still feel so WEAK. Something was wrong with him. It had to be his vessel; the putrid sack of meat that gave him horrible, painful emotions that he barely understood. All he knew was that he WANTED Pine Tree, maybe even more than he wanted to remake the world in his image.

He had to find his Pine Tree. Had to hold him close, keep him safe, do everything in his nigh infinite power to make things better. He'd PROMISED to make things better. He'd never really put any value in promises before, but...

A deal was a deal.  
\---  
The Mystery Shack was empty. It stood untouched by the chaos that had twisted and gutted the world around it, yet somehow appeared frightfully more ominous than the walking horrors that trawled through the woods. Perhaps it was because Dipper knew they were no danger to him; Bill had made it painfully clear who was in charge, and what was off limits. He barely caught more than a glimpse of the creatures that had been crafted from everyday structures and objects, and saw not a trace of the things that had come through the rift. He knew they were no danger to him, and that was exactly why the Shack was so foreboding.

Because he knew that within it, the only danger would be himself. His own hands, armed with a bottle of pills, or a wickedly sharp razor. He knew Stan had a gun safe somewhere in his room. Not to mention the plethora of dangerous devices sleeping underground. There were numerous options available to him, but he was hesitant to pursue any of them. Death was the ultimate unknown, and it was one he was reluctant to explore. Suffering was one thing, but eternal darkness and sensory deprivation sounded infinitely worse. If that was even what awaited him.

An unfamiliar sound echoed in the distance. It possessed the deep, rumbling bass of thunder, accompanied by a high pitched, electronic whine. Dipper paid it no real thought. It wasn't important. He settled to sit on the front porch of the Mystery Shack, rough wooden planks digging through his pants. The way Dipper saw it, he had four options. He could return to Bill, give up, and go along with his desires to ravage the world. He could return to Bill, plead and beg and explain and coax any regret he could out of the demon, and hope it would be enough to fix things. He could try and find his grunkles and Wendy, and aid them in... whatever they would certainly be attempting to do. Or he could end it all before he had to suffer any further.

But his choice was made for him, by the crunch of loafers settling down on dead grass. "Pine Tree... I knew you'd be here." Bill's voice was devoid of all cheer, or excitement, or mania. It tore raggedly through the air, strips of relief hanging off of every word. His footsteps approached, and Dipper didn't bother to raise his bowed head. "I.. Pine Tree, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I don't want you to hate me. I don't... I just want to UNDERSTAND," Bill choked out, undisturbed by the supernatural echo that had accompanied him through the rift.

Dipper finally deigned to look up, his gaze meeting an all powerful, eight foot tall demon that somehow managed to appear a tiny, broken wreck. A thing with six arms and forty eight fingers and more teeth than could be counted, barely cobbled together to resemble one, heartbroken human. A monster with a gaze that could see through the very fabric of the universe, and yet it was barely able to meet his eyes. "..I thought you knew everything?"

"Apparently I don't know ANYTHING. Not about you. Not the things I need to know." Bill motioned to brush the back of a hand across Pine Tree's cheek, but aborted the movement halfway. He tucked a pair of arms around his chest, the other four drooping limply. "I have all the power in the universe, Pine Tree. I'm more now than I've ever been, and-it HURTS. It hurts worse than anything I've ever felt, but I can't just-stop, I have to see this through! I've spent a trillion years working towards this exact moment, and-and I don't understand why.." Bill trailed off, something wet glistening in the corner of his eyes. "..I don't understand why it feels like I've done something WRONG."

"You're right, Bill. You _are_ more than you've ever been." Dipper resisted the urge to flinch when that nightmarish visage snapped up to stare at him, colored with intense focus. "You're more _human_ than you've ever been. You feel like you've done something wrong for a reason. I know you don't... care about hurting other people. I understand that. But... you care about hurting _me_ , right?" Dipper received a slow nod, and felt something delicate blossom in his chest. Hope. Maybe things really _could_ go back to how they had been. "Well, Weirdmaggedon _is_ hurting me. Seeing a town I love be destroyed, seeing people I love being terrorized-it hurts me. And it hurts me more to know that you're responsible. I want to _help_ you, Bill. But not with destroying the world. I want to help you understand yourself, and the feelings you're unfamiliar with. I want to keep you from being lonely. But I can't do that if you're destroying everything I care about. My friends, my family... and you. I care about you too, Bill. But if you push me away, you're going to destroy yourself along with everything else."

"You don't GET IT!" Bill grasped at his face, clawed fingers tugging on the oily flesh as he visibly combated himself. He was a tortured thing, and Dipper could relate. The only difference between them was that Bill still had enough life to keep thrashing. "If I close the rift, all my power, all my knowledge-bang, gone, back to the Nightmare Realm! I won't-I'll never be able to get it back! I... when I inhabited my body, it weakened my ties to the Nightmare Realm, allowing me to function outside of it with a fraction of my true self, instead of projecting myself into someone else's body. This body was really ME, not just a skin suit. When I was trapped in your Mindscape, it contained everything I had taken out of the Nightmare Realm into a separate plane of existence. When I escaped, I solidified my presence in your dimension. This body, and everything I had crammed into it... they weren't just PARTS of me, anymore. They were EVERYTHING. This power, this knowledge.." Bill glared balefully at his twisted appendages, wiping irritatedly at his arms as if he could slough off the skin, "they don't feel like ME, anymore. And I don't think they are. It's like there's a-a bubble, containing everything I'd originally brought into reality, keeping it separated from everything else. I think... Pine Tree, if this body dies, I won't be going back to the Nightmare Realm."

"You have to decide what matters the most to you," Dipper murmured, voice brittle and flaking. He could feel what remained of that blossoming hope, snuffed out with ease. "I'd understand if you don't want to give all of that up for me. Just... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can't make everything better." He could feel the burn of tears, so disgustingly familiar, and did his best to force them back. "I know you're more than a monster, Bill. But I can't force you to choose me over everything you've worked for. I just want you to know that.. I lo-"

The air erupted with noise and light, a high pitched whine shrieking aloud before a searing blue beam of energy passed right beside Bill Cipher's head. He'd twitched out of the way almost before it had even happened, Eye of Providence glaring to the left, down the barrel of a laser rifle and into the narrowed, determined eyes behind it. "Well, if it isn't **Stanford Pines**." He straightened back up to his dizzying stature in an instant, a trio of arms rising into the air. Ford managed to eek off another shot, but it sailed harmlessly into the air as he was suddenly strung up by a loop of glowing blue chains, hands scrabbling for purchase as they dug into his throat.

"Bill, wait, stop-" A flicker of Bill's triangular pupil had Dipper shoved back against the front door of the Mystery Shack, an unseen force compressing his chest like a bag of cement.

"You REALLY thought you could sneak up on me? Here's a newsflash for you-I've got **TWO EYES**  now, Ś̴̕͜͟T͘͞͝͠A̛͘͘͟N̸̵̴̨͞L̸͝E̴̶̕͜͜Y̶͜!̧̕͝" Bill's torso twisted around with a sickening crack of protesting spinal column, three more arms snaking through the air the moment Stanley Pines discharged the Particle Eradicator in his hands. The noise it produced split the air in twain almost as effectively as the weapon itself, airborne particles disintegrating as it tore up through the atmosphere, the air undulating in its wake. "I don't have time for your GAMES right now. OR YOUR TOYS." With a brief gesture from a pair of hands, the discarded laser rifle and the Particle Eradicator still feebly clutched in Stanley Pines' grasp both crumpled like tin cans, sparks and smoke billowing liberally from the forming cracks in the metal. "You've both really got me on my Ļ̸A̡̛͟͞S͏̵̧́Ţ̴̷̕͘ ̸͘N̷͞͡͡ÉR̷͜͟V̡E͏̧̧̧.̷́͝ ̵͝͝͡ Now, as much as I'd love to STRANGLE YOU INTO SOAKING MEAT LUMPS, I'm kind of in the MIDDLE of something right now. So I'm going to let you go, and you're going to SLINK BACK INTO YOUR HOLE like the DISGUSTING LITTLE RODENTS YOU ARE. Do we understand each othe-"

The crack of gunpowder echoed through the clearing in front of the Mystery Shack, followed very shortly by the explosion of Bill Cipher's head. Chunks of dark, oily gore and shards of cranial fragments rained onto the grass, sanguine jets pouring out of a ragged neck stump.

Stanford Pines crashed to the ground, wheezing and clutching at his throat.

Stanley Pines followed suit, staggering away from the ruined mess of the Particle Eradicator.

Wendy Corduroy stood in the tree line, her trembling hands locked around the handle of a smoking Xiuhcoatl.

Bill Cipher's body slumped over into the dirt, blood staining his otherwise immaculate suit.

Dipper Pines stared into the empty space where a pair of eyes had once resided, and felt the shriveled lump in his chest finally wither and die.


	68. Rift

  
In what must have been only moments, the orange sky above swirled together enough wisps of cloud to provide a steady rainfall. Fat, red droplets that stank of soot and ash trickled down from the broken heavens, warm enough to be mistaken for blood. The shock of rain quickly faded into white noise, forgotten just like the rest of the world. All of existence coalesced into a single clearing, stained with gore.

Dipper blinked for the first time in what had to have been an eternity. His eyes were heavy, filled with liquid cement. His bones were aching, ground down to powder. His chest was burning, a dark smolder that liquefied everything underneath the skin of his torso. Cracked lips parted, a sluggish mind struggling to pull words out of the void. "I-I'm sorry." Those were the correct ones. They had to be. Dipper lurched away from the door he had been pressed against, collapsing onto his hands and knees and scraping his palms against the wooden porch. "Bill, I'm sorry, she didn't mean it. Wendy-it won't happen again, I promise. Please don't be mad." Dipper faintly heard his own name, but ignored it in favor of crawling towards the headless body slumped over in the grass. He paid no mind to the voice repeating his name, instead taking one of Bill's twisted hands into his own. It was large enough that the demon could have easily engulfed his entire head with it. He pressed the limp appendage against his chest, and turned a trembling smile down towards where a grinning face would have been. "Y-you... I love you. You know that, right? I.. I meant to say it sooner, I really did. I just didn't know how to. I.. I know you don't really understand love, and... I'm not sure I do, either. But we can learn about it together, can't we?"

"Dipper.." Wendy's locked limbs suddenly returned to working order, and she dropped Xiuhcoatl as if it had burned her. She tingled with aftershocks all the way up to her elbows, but pushed them aside. She took short, hesitant steps across the clearing, stopping halfway. She turned to meet Stan's gaze, and imagined her own must have mirrored it; weary and weighted and heartbroken. She shifted her sights to Ford, only to find him staring solemnly into the dirt. That was alright. She could do this. She _had_ to do it. Wendy closed as much distance as she dared, stopping at the edge of a pool of blood already diluted by the rain. She crouched down, and tried to remember what a smile felt like. "Dipper, can you hear me? It's Wendy." She watched with a sickening lurch in her stomach as he mumbled to the headless corpse, clutching one of its many hands with tender reverence. Wendy struggled to clear the jagged debris from her throat. "Dipper, it's me." She struggled to formulate words, unsure of how to pull Dipper out of.. whatever he was lost within. Before she could craft a solution, he was looking up at her, eyes glistening with moisture. His stare was more lifeless than the body they bordered.

"Wendy." Dipper met her eyes for all of a moment, and pretended not to notice her shock. He gently folded Bill's hand over his chest, and rose to his feet with stiff, awkward movements. The further from the ground he moved, the stronger gravity ripped at his feeble form, threatening to crumble him into sawdust. "..You don't have to look at me like that. I'm not mad at you." His face was slack with neutrality, and the mere thought of pulling the muscles into some sort of expression left him exhausted.

"I'm not worried about you being mad at me. I.." Wendy very carefully circumnavigated Bill's body, so that there was nothing but air between her and Dipper. "..Is it alright if I touch you?" He vaguely nodded his head, and Wendy wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him as carefully as she could manage. He leaned into her bonelessly, and Wendy found it frighteningly easy to support him. "God, Dipper... I'm sorry. I'm sorry it had to end up like this."

"I am as well." Ford rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, weariness settling on his brow. He glanced over at the remains of the Particle Eradicator, and sighed out a breath. "We certainly could have had a... cleaner execution. It'll take some time before we're able to clear out the rest of these abominations, now." He was ignorant to the deathly silence that followed his statement.

"...That's all you care about, isn't it?" Dipper's voice fluttered like a dead leaf, pounded by the warm droplets that fell from above. He extracted himself from Wendy's grip, ignoring her worried utterance of his name. "Getting your way. Doing whatever _you_ think should be done. He was going to close the rift, you know. Fix everything."

Ford, oblivious to the barbed, bleeding tone that Dipper had adopted, merely gave him a saddened look. "I'm sorry Dipper, but we both know that Bill couldn't be taken at his word-"

"'Trust no one', right?" Dipper interrupted, scathing and trembling. "Maybe, after all these years, you were right about that. I mean... I trusted you, and look where that's gotten me. Where it's gotten all of us."

Ford leveled a sharp gaze his way, eyes narrowed. "Dipper, I understand that you're hurt right now, but taking it out on others isn't productive. I know you truly believed that Bill cared about you-"

"He _does_ care about me!" Dipper nearly screamed it, his voice cracking halfway and the dam of tears finally giving way. He wiped at his face furiously, leaving his eyes red and irritated. "He cares about me more than _you_ do, that's for sure! How sad is it that a demon who only had a body for a few months was more of a functioning human being than you are?!"

"Alright kid, that's enough-" Stan stopped in his tracks as Dipper leveled a tearful glare at him, misery swimming to depths that Stan could barely fathom. "Hey.. I understand that you're broken up, and you don't know how to deal with it. I really do; but yelling and pointing fingers is only gonna cause more grief. Trust me on that." He kept his tone low and un-accusing, doing his level best to avoid inciting any anger.

It didn't work. "You're one to talk about grief. At least you still _have_ your twin." Dipper's eyes widened the moment the words left his mouth, regret forming a filmy layer over the surface of sorrow. He quickly glanced away to avoid having to see the hurt in Stan's eyes, and resisted the urge to bite his own tongue off. An apology almost made it out of his mouth. "...Leave me alone. Go help Ford ruin someone else's life."

Ford's face was utterly impassive. "Well, Stanley, that seems as clear a dismissal as any. You can take the rifle and the Particle Eradicator back to the bunker with us. It's crucial that I begin repairs immediately. I'll handle Xiuhcoatl and Cipher's body-"

"DON'T YOU _DARE_ TOUCH HIM!" Dipper's sluggish, lethargic movements gave way to ones that jerked and twitched with nervous energy as he stood protectively over Bill. "I don't care what you want with him, but you aren't touching him. Just _go away_." His voice cracked with desperation, belying the fragility that barely held up under his thin shell of anger.

"Dipper, you're acting irrationally," Ford grit out, his patience wearing thin. "Cipher's body is an indescribably valuable specimen. For all we know, studying his physical makeup could reveal a method to seal the rift forever! You need to put your feelings aside, and see the bigger picture."

"Did you ever wonder why I declined becoming your apprentice?" Dipper felt a cruel jolt of satisfaction when Ford's impassive facade flickered. "It's because I saw past my hero worship and figured out what you really are. You don't care about other people. Not as much as you care about doing whatever _you_ think is the right thing to do. You hoard secrets like treasure, and push people away when they try to connect with you. You're obsessive and standoffish and you'll do anything to get your way. You tossed your own brother aside like trash because of a single mistake, and then you called him back years later and just expected him to do whatever you said. You built a doomsday device without even _once_ thinking about what it was capable of. You..." Dipper sucked in a breath, and broke eye contact. "Something is _wrong_ with you. And.. maybe you can't help it, but that's no excuse for what you've done."

Ford opened his mouth for a rebuttal, only to lock up in place. His eyes widened, shoes crunching through dry grass as he took a step back. "Dipper-"

With a spasmodic jolt and a sickening lurch, Bill Cipher's headless body leapt up onto all eight limbs. Wendy gave a startled shout and slipped in her haste to get away, colliding with the ground. Dipper stood absolutely frozen, eyes blown wide as shrieks of howling cackles drifted on the wind. Golden eyes flickered in every individual raindrop, and chunks of meat and bone began tumbling across the grass towards the stump of Bill's neck. Inky black threads slithered out of the ravaged stump, spearing the fragments of his head and dragging them back to their proper places. The laughter heightened in intensity, so loud it was nearly deafening. Dipper was rooted to the earth, watching in disbelief as slivers of teeth melded together into a jagged, flesh rending grin. Bill swayed up onto his feet, movements slowly growing more articulate as his arms patted down his suit, straightening wrinkles and adjusting his bow tie. A golden eye lit up in the half formed head, blazing straight through Dipper's own gaze. Bill smoothed down his knitting together scalp, chunks of hair sprouting to form his elegant coif. His lips parted in an unending smear of glistening enamel, which parted with a creak.

"Did you REALLY think you could get rid of me?" Where a moment of tense silence should have fallen, there was instead a burst of raucous laughter. To Stanford and Stanley Pines, the sound of Bill's amusement could not have marked anything other than a death toll. "Boy, Xiuhcoatl sure packs a punch. Even I thought you'd actually done something worthwhile for once in your life, Sixer! But we all know that'll never be the case." Bill's grin grew exponentially, until it nearly split his head apart once more. "Maybe you were right about your fingers being a curse, Stanford. It sure seems like all they do is destroy everything they touch, huh? Except for the things you need them to destroy, I guess, but I can't really fault you for that."

Ford said nothing in return, his eyes drifting to where Xiuhcoatl had been discarded in the grass. There were six shots left. Maybe enough of them would incapacitate Bill permanently? Or at least keep him out of commission long enough to allow for repairs on the Particle Eradicator- Ford's thought process was violently disrupted by the conjuration of glowing blue chains around his neck, pulled tight enough to have his eyes bugging out.

"I get the feeling that you're not listening to me! Pretty rude, if I do say so myself." Bill idly twirled a hand through the air, a choked exclamation and a startled cry making it clear that Stan and Wendy had met the same fate as Ford. With another gesture, Xiuhcoatl was suddenly twirling end over end through the air, until it landed neatly in Bill's outstretched palm. He inspected the weapon superficially, finding that his fingers were too large to grasp it comfortably. "It was ALSO pretty rude of you to use my own weapon against me. ESPECIALLY from behind. Talk about insulting! You even dragged poor little Red into your mess, although that's really nothing new. You've always excelled at pushing the weight of your failures onto others, up to and including impressionable twelve year old's! How pathetic can you BE, Stanford Filbrick Pines? Don't answer that; I already know what a sad little sack of carbon and water you really are. Lucky for you, your ol' pal Bill has a final solution in mind for you!" Bill exploded into cackles, leveling the enchanted revolver directly at Stanford's forehead. He relished the panicked, wide eyed stare, clearly able to see the gears whirring behind them. "Let's see what good that brain'll do you when I B̧̕L͢͞ÓẀ̸̢͢ ̷̡͞I̴̶̧̡͜T̷͝ ̷̡̨̨I͟N̕͟͡͡T̸́͝O̸ ͘̕͏̡̡C̸̨͢͝H̵̡͟͟͡U͏̸̡͢͞N̶̸͘͜͜K̸͏̵̀S̨̢̛̕-̢͠"

"Bill." It seemed, that even during the moment of the absolute, all it took was one exhaled syllable to give Bill Cipher pause. He turned his all seeing gaze on the fragile container of humanity that he'd grown so familiar with. Imploring eyes stared up at him, dark and sunken and rimmed with red; set into a face with prominent cheekbones and hollowed cheeks and cracked, lifeless lips. Bill saw past the rotted bark, the snapped branches, the splintered heartwood, and saw the promise of new life, if only he were to nurture it. "Bill, it's okay. We can fix everything now, can't we?" Trembling lips pulled into a dying smile, hanging by mere threads. Bill was unsure if he could ever put such a thing back together, were the strings to be cut. "Please. I know you're more than this. More than a monster. You.. you can make everything better."

Bill considered numerous things. The weight of solid metal and the arcane spells weaved into it. The dark fire that lived inside him, begging to be unleashed so that it might consume everything. The warm, confusing heat that flared whenever he was subject to dark eyes, and fragile smiles, and breathy laughter. He thought of two pines, gnarled and firmly rooted. He thought of the only thing that mattered anymore. "...I love you too, Pine Tree." Bill spread his arms wide, Xiuhcoatl tumbling into the dirt as an immense crackle of power rent the air itself. The Eye of Providence shone with an eternal brilliance, blinding and consuming and powerful beyond imagination. The earth shook, the wind howled, cosmic energies flowing and swirling and coalescing until-

Blue skies stretched unbroken overhead, untainted by the unearthly rift that had once torn them asunder. A floating pyramid, imposing and threatening and grand, had become nothing more than a memory. A town crumbled and burned into ruins had become whole and untouched. The monsters that had invaded the world had been ousted, and their victims had been left healthy and unharmed.

And Bill Cipher collapsed into the dirt, bearing two arms and one golden eye.


	69. Blue Moon

Flowing currents of wind wound through an endless maze of pine trunks, carrying upon them the distant sound of birdsong. The air itself was fresh and scented with the dark green needles that soaked in the rays of the sun, unobstructed by the few wisps of clouds that drifted through the azure stretch of sky. Beneath the light of the summer sun, five linked individuals populated a clearing of dry grass, directly in front of a dingy wooden shack.

Dipper sat on his knees in the grass, strands of it crunching under his weight. They tickled the hairs on his knees, but he ignored the tingling sensation in favor of gently stroking a long, gnarled hand, befitting of a crypt keeper. The skin was tight, and pale, and soft under the pads of his fingers. He was unfortunately aware of the presence of the other three beings in the clearing, and reluctantly glanced up to gaze upon them. "...You three should go make sure the townspeople are okay. Bill and I should be gone by the time you come back."

Ford took a few moments to deliberate between following directions and putting up a protest, but the decision was made for him by the presence of his twin's hand around his elbow. "C'mon, Sixer. The kid's right. Ain't doin' any good just sittin' here." His gruff tone of voice softened as he turned to his nephew. "..Dipper, for what it's worth... I'm sorry." His expression was troubled, his tired eyes barely able to meet Dipper's. "C'mon Corduroy, let's get moving."

"I... yeah, sure thing Mr. Pines." Wendy slowly rose to her feet, eyes locked on what had once been a beast from beyond the stars, and was now something infinitely more human. "Dipper... take care of yourself, alright? And... call me, if you need to. You're not allowed to disappear on me again, got it?" She attempted a genial grin, but felt as though it came out a lot more unsure than she had intended. It was one of numerous things that she had suddenly found herself unsure about.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Dipper replied softly, returning her smile with a twitch of his lips. "But... you should really get going. And so should we." Dipper turned back to a face bearing a monstrous maw, slacked to the point of an almost gentle expression in unconsciousness. Dipper's own expression was one of tentative adoration, and it was at that moment that Wendy knew he was beyond her intervention. She turned her back on him, though it wounded her to do so, and disappeared down the dirt road leading to town with Stan and Ford in tow.

The limp body of Bill Cipher twitched the exact moment that three retreating figures made it out of earshot, two eyes sliding open asynchronously to reveal a blank, milky orb and a searching pupil ringed with golden fire. Sickly lips pulled up into a grin, soft and sweet for all its razor edges. "Hey there, Pine Tree. Fancy meeting you here." He lifted his torso off the ground, one arm trailing in the dirt as the other was held securely by slightly clammy hands. "I thought they'd never leave." His legs soon followed in his upward ascent, leaving him slightly disoriented as he attempted to recalibrate to his old height. The process was interrupted by warm arms being thrown around his torso, and squeezing until he could feel the bones through his shirt. "Looks like SOMEBODY missed me, huh? I guess that makes two of us."

"Y..yeah. I did. I missed you a lot." Dipper didn't bother trying to quash the choking emotion that rose in his throat. He didn't have anyone to put on a show for. It was just Bill and Pine Tree, now. "Thank you for coming back, and... a-and fixing things. I know Weirdmageddon meant a lot to you, but.."

Bill cracked a grin like he would an egg, spilling forth a goopy mess of tangled emotion. "Don't mention it, Pine Tree. Turning the universe into my personal playground would have been fun for a while, but I'm sure I'd have gotten bored eventually. Especially with nobody to share it with." His somber tone rose into its familiar high pitched cheer. "Now that I think about it, that plan was pretty... short-sighted, huh?" Bill cackled at his own joke, but not so loudly that he couldn't hear the reluctant huff of amusement that escaped his Pine Tree.

"I guess _someone_ had to pick up the comedy slack," Dipper murmured, a paper thin smile playing at his lips. "But we should really pack up, and get going. I.. we have no place here." Just admitting it out loud had twisted barbs coiling in his stomach, but there was no way it wasn't true. He'd done a lot more than sever his ties to Gravity Falls; he'd hacked at them with a knife until only scraps remained. He was estranged from his friends, he had pushed away his family-he was directly responsible for bringing forth the apocalypse. No, there was nothing left for him. It was better that he moved on. Better that he didn't bring any more misery upon himself, and those around him.

Bill, unsurprisingly, seemed largely oblivious to the somber mood, but the slightly toned down volume of his voice and the less bombastic nature of his movements suggested he at least picked up on an inkling of it. "You said it, Pine Tree. Why hang around in this dump when we have a whole world to explore?" Bill's tone was airy and almost-hopeful, if such an attribute could ever be applied to a creature like him. He greeted the dusty, musty interior of the Shack with a deep breath, as if to savor the scent of aged wood and neglect. He allowed his Pine Tree to lead the way, still tethered to him by the staunch grip on his hand.

They ascended the rickety staircase in silence, save for the creak of boards under their shoes. Dipper opened the door to the upstairs bedroom with little fanfare, zeroing in on the partially unpacked luggage bags-before he paused. He'd forgotten entirely about the record player, still nestled in the corner of the room. He approached it almost apprehensively, squinting to read the label of the record in place. He felt Bill's gaze burning inquisitively into his back as he flipped the record over, and set the pin in place.

Rather than bombastic brass and rambunctious drums, the notes that emanated from the music player were slow, and somber. A double bass, infrequently strummed, accompanied by a slow, tinkling piano. Dipper cleared his throat of nerves, turning back to face the demon that had changed his life so drastically. "Blue moon," he began, voice slightly wobbly, "you saw me standing alone; without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own. Blue moon... you knew just what I was there for." Dipper's voice was not particularly melodic, nor deep or smooth enough to properly capture the tone of the song. But the raw emotion in his voice helped to bolster his efforts, leaving his words with a quiet, meaningful weight.

Bill closed the distance between them in two strides, taking Pine Tree's hands in his own and positioning them to his liking. He began lightly swaying, as a voice once again rose in song. "You heard me saying a prayer for, someone I really could care for. And then suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms will hold." Bill eliminated the remaining distance, pulling a head of tangled brown locks and dewy eyes filled with dead stars against his chest. "Somebody whispered "please adore me", and when I looked, the moon had turned to gold. Blue moon.. now I'm no longer alone. Without a dream in my heart..." Dipper raised his head, just enough that he could meet the warm, dizzying, hypnotizing gaze of the Eye of Providence. "Without a love of my own."

The record skipped and stuttered before plunging them into silence. Bill pulled his Pine Tree close, and didn't mention the hiccuped breaths against his sternum. He held the warm, fragile body in arms that were wholly and utterly his own, hands stroking down a protruding spine through the fabric of a flimsy t-shirt.

"..Let's go home, Pine Tree." 


End file.
